


There's No Place Like Home

by shaenanigans



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU Arcadia Group, Alexandria Safe Zone, Alpha Rick Grimes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dimension Travel, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Getting Together, M/M, Multiverse Theory, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Daryl Dixon, Original Dixon-Grimes Children, Post-Season 07E04 Service, Protective Rick, Rickyl Writers' Group, Shifter Daryl Dixon, Shifter Rick Grimes, Wolf!Rick Rescues Canon Daryl, Wolf!Rick Serving as Daryl's Bed, au meets canon, pack mentality, pseudo time travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 01:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20349937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaenanigans/pseuds/shaenanigans
Summary: Ever since Daryl gave him the wolf-blood to save his life after the prison fell, between Terminus and finding a town deep in the middle of the woods with walls that could keep them safe, Rick can say with confidence that life has been good. More than good. They might have had their losses, but they've also had incredible gains. After their run in with the Whisperers two years ago, peace was back in their world. He should have known that sooner or later somethin' would fuck it up.It was just a simple supply run and yet Rick's whole world had spun out of its axis. Literally. Suddenly, he's found himself lost in an alternate reality. Because what else could it be? Where things were the same in one and yet drastically different in others?Rick knew he was lost. He just didn't think he was that lost. And the most pressing question was, how the hell does he return home?10/10 Update: Currently on hold because of real life problems suddenly bludgeoning me in the head.





	1. Safe Within Walls

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fade Into Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4324953) by [tender_is_the_ghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_is_the_ghost/pseuds/tender_is_the_ghost). 

> This story was posted before when Season 7 was airing but was orphaned because of an accident that I thought would no longer allow me to get back on my feet and I was cycling between constant wave of anxiety and depression for a few years. Heck. I couldn't even look at zombie make-up without freaking out then. Those were dark times. I'm sorry to everybody who commented and liked the story. But I'm better now. So I am back to writing and will hopefully finish this before the end of the year, depending on my editing skills between work, doctor appointments and ongoing rehab sessions. 
> 
> Anyway, I have nobody to blame but tender_is_the_ghost and bennyhatter for their wonderful Shifter/Werewolf fics so here I am with this silly attempt at one.If there are certain similarities to Fade Into Me that's because I was inspired by it to an extent I couldn't quite shake off that wonderful verse from my head. I have no geographical knowledge of the South, or the United States for that matter so I apologize for any discrepancies or weirdness on the locations. Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own. I already had the ending written down to this story and have a general idea of where I want the story to go. I've only watched until season 7 so please forgive me if I butcher Canon.
> 
> Anyway, here's the first three chapters for you all lovely Rickyl folks. Hope you enjoy. 😊

Like countless days before, Rick wakes up with his arms wrapped tight around Daryl, long fingers splayed across his chest. Nose pressed to the soft skin of the back of Daryl’s ear, Rick breathes in a lungful of his familiar scent. Always a constant sweet and calming mixture of the forest, of Rick's own scent clinging to his mate’s skin as distinct and owning as the claiming mark decorating his neck. 

He takes another whiff of his children's clean and fragrant smells. There’s their twins, Dylan and Riley, Carl and of course Judith, her scent particularly strong. She’s been clinging to Daryl a lot lately, excited and perpetually wide-eyed as she cooed over her soon to be baby sister, regardless of Daryl being only four months along and the baby’s gender still undetermined. She's always near, demanding cuddles and batting them baby blues that Daryl could never say no to.

Rick hums softly as he takes another deep inhale, a low rumbling purr vibrating in his chest that earns a sleepy groan from the body encased in his embrace. Early morning light slices through the sky-blue curtains by the bedroom windows and plays across Daryl's features. Rick chuckles at the sight of his mate scrunching up his nose, finding him endearingly adorable as he crossly curses the sun. The hunter twists in place and grabs a pillow to cover his face with before settling down.

It takes half a minute before Daryl's pulling the pillow off and away. He blinks up at Rick who is lovingly gazing down at him, right arm stretched out and palm propped against the side of his head.

"Mornin'." Daryl mumbles, drowsy eyes fluttering.

"Morning, darlin'." Rick greets warmly and leans in for a light and lingering kiss upon Daryl's lips. The hunter sighs at the contact and slowly wraps strong arms around Rick's shoulders as he pulls him closer, morning breath be damned. 

Softly, Daryl pulls back from the kiss. He grins at the former sheriff, right thumb leisurely tracing Rick's generous bottom lip. "Ne'er gettin' tired wakin' up ta your stupidly beautiful face, Rick."

The unrestrained open fondness in Daryl's eyes makes his heart melt every single time. "You and me both sweetheart." Rick counters with a smile, winking as he teasingly flicks his tongue in what he hopes is a seductive manner.

Daryl eyerolls at his lame attempt at seduction. "You look ridiculous." he says, but there's a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He looks bashful, always has been whenever Rick calls him any of the myriad of endearments he has in his arsenal. He loves showering his hunter with affectionate touches and words of love every chance he can get. Rick thinks of Daryl's kin, of the way they never bothered to show him the love he deserved and more even in the simplest of ways. He shakes the upsetting thought off.

"You love me being ridiculous." Rick pouts like a kicked puppy instead. The expression spreads into a grin however as he full-out transforms into his wolf form. The sudden change pulls a dramatic grunt from Daryl when Rick, mindful of his weight, flops half on top of him, tongue lolling out before proceeding to lick his mate across the face.

"Oi, geroff. You're heavy." Daryl reprimands beneath Rick, hands flailing as he tries to pry Rick off by his enormous head only to get another lick for his trouble. Daryl scowls at the full-grown wolf terrorizing his bed and reaches to wipe the slobber painting his cheek. "Not cool, dog breath. You're all sticky and wet."

Rick shifts just as easily back to his human form, arms circling around Daryl, canines sinking against the supple flesh between neck and shoulder, directly above the claiming mark. "You've been wet and sticky last night too, baby. I didn't hear you complaining." he singsongs, gratified upon hearing Daryl’s sharp needy exhale. Rick pulls back, eyebrows wagging lecherously and is soon grinning and laughing, ducking the pillow that Daryl's throwing his way for being a goddamned tease. 

With a battle cry, Daryl smothers him in the face with the fluffed up monstrosity, pinning him down to the mattress and straddling his equally naked thighs. Rick puts up a valiant fight, only to let out an embarrassingly high shriek when Daryl resorts to tickling his sides.

"Stop, stop. Ow. Jesus, stop it. Daryl! I give! I give!" 

Daryl doesn't let up until Rick's almost out of breath from hysterical laughter and his darling decides to be merciful. Daryl lets go, chuckling as he drops by Rick’s side. "Serves ya right, Sheriff." Smile wide, Rick replies by throwing an arm across Daryl's stomach, head resting on the other man's chest.

Eventually they settle down and simply listen to the other breathe, letting the lull of their heartbeats wash over their heightened senses as their home slowly wakes up to a brand new day. 

Rick loves these lazy, early mornings. It has become a cherished tradition between them over the past several years. Despite that one dark blot in their history since finding their home, resulting to sudden losses that made them all the more closer as a pack, they've been living a good life for the most part. If he were to be honest, Rick didn't think they would ever last this long. Most likely wouldn't if they had still been human. But thanks to Daryl, his sweet and strong, selfless hunter, the love of his life and the father to his children, he changed their whole lives for the better. 

Daryl was something called a Shifter. A fearsome supernatural creature that no one expected to exist outside of books and movies. His hunter had been bitten by one in his teenage years, managing to kill the creature, escaping by the skin of his teeth. But Daryl turned, frightened and horror-stricken at what he’d become. He at least had self-preservation to not tell a soul about the change. He hid in plain sight and blended in with the unsuspecting humans ever since. Not even Merle knew. 

An eternity of research later, Daryl believed that he was a Shifter of the Lycanthrope origins. He had grumbled adorably about how it was the longest six months of his life spent day after day in the library, trying to figure out what kind of monster he was.

Daryl initially thought he turned into a Werewolf, but the evidence pointed to a different kind of creature. He retained brain function in his wolf and hybrid form. He didn't go crazy, nor did he feel the need to go on a killing spree or craved human flesh like the legends said he should. The full moon nonsense didn't apply to him either. He simply had three facets to his being. Human, hybrid and wolf working seamlessly together.

Rick was naturally shocked to find out that someone who was an integral and important part of their family, the one who helped provide for their needs, protecting and stepping up as leader when Rick had been losing his mind, and had looked after his children without asking for anything in return, was practically a killing machine. 

Rick was already well aware of how much of a capable hunter Daryl was; knew that his hands have killed walkers and humans, dead or alive in order to protect and provide for their family and was truly gifted with a crossbow. Rick was ashamed to say that before the dead started rising, Daryl was the kind of man he would have dismissed as another backwoods hillbilly redneck. But after everything they've gone through and survived together, he couldn't push Daryl away. The thought didn't even cross his mind.

Any sane person suddenly faced with the dangerous reality of having a creature like Daryl within their midst would have driven the hunter away. It was the safe thing to do and he knew Daryl would not have even faulted him if he decided on sending him off. And yet Rick in that moment of knowing could do nothing else but stare and fall all the more in love, his feelings for the silent but ever dependable hunter solidifying like steel.

The shock of finding out that there was a non-human side to Daryl that had claws and sharp teeth faded quickly. Stark clarity hit him like a bludgeon to the head. 

Many times Rick stood witness to how those same hands had patiently taught Carl how to shoot a bow and hold a knife; to aim for a kill as he learned how to protect himself and his sister. Those strong arms had held his baby girl like she was made of glass, always careful and gentle when he tended to her, whether he was carrying her to stop her cries, feeding her or changing her diapers. Those lips had kissed her on the forehead multiple times and hummed her tenderly to sleep. Judith and Carl might not be his blood but Daryl looked after his children like he was their own.

The love he felt for his brother, his best friend, naturally flared up like a damn supernova trampling everything in its path. All of the doubts and the fears of his less than platonic emotions destroying what he had with the hunter evaporated like mist. Rick was never letting him go. He loved him, wholly, irrevocably; emotions made all the more clear after Daryl saved him from sure death during the aftermath of the Governor’s attack.

He'd been beaten into a pulp, suffering from gunshot wounds to the stomach and thigh, adding to the already clear and inevitable death sentence that a walker bite had inflicted upon his left shoulder blade in all the chaos that ensued. And his hunter gave him a fighting chance to continue on living for his children.

Becoming a Shifter came with the risk of death. Not everybody could live through the transformation, not everyone agreed with the excruciating pain that happened during the process. The only person Daryl gave two shits about before the apocalypse had died shortly after giving them the bite. And he'd been too late for Merle. But it was either he wait for Rick to die and come back as a walker, or he tried to save his life. No matter how small the chance.

Rick lived through the transformation, just as Daryl hoped he would. The hunter told him after the fact, that if there was anyone who could survive the wolf bite it would be Rick because he sure was the most stubborn, toughest sonofabitch he knew, and out of all of them, had the strongest determination and reason to live.

Overwhelmed by both love and gratitude in equal measure, Rick spilled his carefully hidden emotions to the hunter. He braced himself for rejection, for heartache, only to be pleasantly surprised that Daryl felt the same way. Daryl had confessed, haltingly, shyly, that even if Rick ended up hating him for cursing him to a life as a monster - just like the hunter believed himself to be when nothing could be farther from the truth - at least he would continue to live and Daryl wanted nothing more in his life than to see Rick alive.

_ I practically worshiped the ground ya walked on, Rick. Thought ya knew my feelins’ an' was bein' all decent friend 'bout it an' pretendin ya don't get uncomf'tble with me around. I… I loved ya for a long time. _

There had been silence, and then he pounced on Daryl with lips, teeth and tongue, hands cupping his face as he pushed him against the trunk of a tree. It was the night of Rick’s lesson in keeping the wolf under control, the same night that he was strong enough to hear what Daryl had to say about his rebirth. Once the initial surprise passed, Daryl was suddenly on him, kissing him as fiercely as Rick was kissing him, hands groping and grabbing like they couldn't get enough and needed the other to breathe.

The smell of the forest around them in the night air had been intoxicating. Before Rick knew what was happening, Daryl pulled away after a hard nip on his bottom lip, and then he was running, laughing, grin wide, his sharp canines glinting like an invitation. Something primal rumbled in Rick’s chest and then he was off, chasing Daryl through the forest like a predator would its prey. He caught Daryl several times, holding him down against the ground, teeth gnawing into his shoulder, not enough to bleed, body bracketing Daryl and achingly hard.

It was on the fourth instance of catching a writhing and whining Daryl that Rick realized they were no longer bipedal. And upon looking down, definitely did not have that much hair. Or fur for that matter. He didn’t even realize the change. It came so naturally.

It didn't take long before the wolf's full instincts kicked in and in two weeks’ time, Rick was finally sinking his teeth onto Daryl's shoulder for the claiming mark. Consummating their love under the light of the full moon, the bond bite was created, tying them to each other, heart, mind and soul for as long as they lived and mating them for life.

When they were reunited with the others, it became increasingly hard to try to hide the change. Rick hated having to lie to the rest of the family, felt emotions far stronger than when he’d been human. He felt a hundred times more responsible for his people. 

Daryl later told him that he was exhibiting traits of an Alpha of the pack._ Alpha? Then what does that make you? _ He had asked Daryl, and he blushed a very pretty shade of pink that made Rick want to take him despite Carol’s watchful eye. _ Definitely not an Alpha. _ Daryl mumbled with a shy smile, ears red and left to join the others.

It was inevitable to tell their family of what they are after the nightmare that was Terminus. Carl had been firmly on his dad and Daryl's defense as he'd been there when Rick was dying. He had been hovering anxiously by the abandoned house's kitchen entrance, watching helplessly as his father went through the transformation, writhing and thrashing in pain on the bloodstained floor.

It turned out that Carol had known way before Rick about the Lycan blood and accepted Daryl just as easily as he did. She had kept his secret close to her chest. Her only grievance was not pressing for more when Daryl time and again kept refusing her the wolf bite. Rick understood intimately how the thought of losing Carol terrified Daryl. 

With the way he’d somehow imprinted on her as a mother-figure, he couldn’t risk it. She was the first person he felt strongly for at the end of the world. But it was still Carol's decision in the end and with everyone in on the secret, with Rick considering saying yes to Abraham and Michonne, she didn't take it kindly. If she had to let herself be bitten by a walker to force their hand, then she damn would. Not even Sophia's pleadings shook her resolve. Considering she already walked among the dead and blew up Terminus all by her lonesome, Rick and Daryl couldn’t really risk calling her bluff.

Reluctantly, Daryl gave her the bite.

When Carol came out on the other side after the wolf blood had settled in her system, positively thriving and full of life, only then was Daryl able to take a relieved breath. Michonne followed shortly after, then Abraham, both surviving the change. 

The redhead had a particularly painful time of it however. His tenacity and stubbornness the only thing preventing him from dying. Bob, ever the optimist volunteered next, the decision ultimately saving his life when he got bit at one of their runs near a church where they stayed for a short while. It seemed that their core group of survivors from the prison who were already considered pack in the walker infested word, agreed with the wolf blood better than the new faces joining their group.

The rest had been skeptical. The risk of dying was still a risk. They lost Tyreese to the walkers when he got bit. Even though Rick had given him the wolf bite despite his refusal, Tyreese unfortunately lost too much blood and had gotten too weak. He didn't make it through the full transformation.

Sasha had been inconsolable and went off the rails for a while until they came across a kid Noah having recently escaped a place called Grady Memorial Hospital. He made mention of a blonde teenage girl named Beth who saved his life, one he needed to come back to rescue. Sasha took to him like a mother hen to her chick. Later, she and Bob adopted the teenager.

At that time, they didn't want to think about the people they lost during the Governor's attack, but it was information that Beth was alive and they had a damn good destination of where to go to next. 

Getting Beth reunited with her sister and brother in law, and once again seeing her bright smile the second she saw Judith, asking to carry her with love in her eyes, will always be one of Rick's most treasured memories. Not even the memory of tearing apart the trigger-tense officer that nearly cost Beth her life, narrowly missing her head, as Rick pushed her out of the way, could ruin it for him.

With Michonne, Abraham and Carol behind them, Shifter irises spinning dangerously with canines and claws extended, ready for tearing flesh from bone, no one dared move from the opposing group. The look on their faces were of pure shock and fear, until the female officer that had been among the ones they kidnapped for the exchange, told her people to stand the fuck down and begged them leave.

Rick didn't bother opening an invitation.

After nearly a year on the road, moving from one shelter to the next, always wary of meeting strangers - thus getting out of Dodge at the sightings of hostile territory within Virginia - finally, they came across a walled-in town up north in Huntingrock County.

Arcadia.

It seemed like only yesterday when they came upon this piece of paradise deep in the woods, hidden by greenery and towering trees. With its thirty foot high steel-reinforced concrete walls surrounding the entire town, it looked like an indomitable fortress.

The outside had been teeming with walkers the first time they came across the town and knew instantly that no sane person, or group would want to attempt climbing a wall that high. Not when the sound of what seemed like an army of walkers could be heard, shuffling and groaning in the multitude from the inside.

But to Rick and his family of survivors, it held great promise and a hope for a future.

After the combined effort of ridding the outside of the lumbering dead, with a hundred times the determination to have a permanent place to keep their family safe, especially for Maggie, heavily pregnant as she was, the Shifters in their group helped each other to scale up the walls. Once they were inside, they made slow but sure clean-up of the walkers littering by the hundreds, while the newly turned Glenn made sure the humans in their party were protected outside, always near his wife and sister-in-law.

The whole affair was done in less than three hours with no loss to their numbers. Seeing their smiling, happy faces afterwards made Rick think back to when they managed to clear the prison. Back when they had been desperate enough to secure a place after a year of wandering, from one camp to the next, needing a place for Lori to bring Judith into the world. A time when they still didn't know Shifters walked among them.

Once inside Arcadia's walls, Rick's family made a quick sweep of any usable supplies left. The corpses and walkers alike looked to have bled profusely from the eyes, much like the sickness that had taken over the prison. Whatever hit them there hit them here. The blood had been fresh, the bodies still on the early stages of decomposing. Some of them lay torn apart outside and smelled absolutely awful especially to a wolf's heightened olfactory sense. Good thing though, that there was none of the fevered sweetness permeating the air that Rick had smelled and fought not to gag about when the prison had been in the thick of it.

Whatever outbreak took place, it hadn't been long ago and there was a goldmine of supplies left lying around.

The main mansion in town belonged to some crackhead Messiah wannabe that believed he was the Second Coming and was able to lure in followers with his wealth, promises of being saved and to be a part of his flock. As long as they were to give ten percent of their earnings, they would live in the Promised Land within the walls.

The rotting, lumbering dead body of said false Messiah met the sharp end of Daryl's hunting knife. In a way, he served as the savior for Rick's people. The place he had picked to erect his Paradise on Earth was well away from the road and hidden from sight. With its own solar panel and grid, cisterns and eco-based sewage infiltration system, it could easily last decades. It was meant for sustainability.

There had been instances that other survivors had wandered near their town. Two sets had been plunderers and just smelled wrong and bad intentions to whom they swiftly dealt with. And then there was that one group of exhausted and traumatized faces that they met while on a supply run. They had been part of a civilized town a hundred miles down south called Alexandria that had been overrun by walkers in the thousands. There had been well over a hundred citizens but only twenty-three made it out alive and fifteen survived on the road before Daryl and Rick came across their group.

They've proven to be quite the useful addition since.

"Ya goin' with Glenn for tha' supply run today?"

Rick burrows his face deeper against his mate's neck and nodded his head, not quite ready to be away from Daryl and his family for the next three days. They work on rotation so as much as he hated having to leave, he had to do his part.

They were not starving, far from it, especially after the architect Reg and his politician wife Deanna proposed the idea of expansion, from growing more crops to plans of an education system. Despite their numbers having increased over the years from taking in small group of survivors from the road during their scouting patrols, there was still a big part of the town that was unused and the couple had been valuable in their input to make Arcadia a thriving community. It seemed they were well on their way to doing the same on their home in Alexandria until the walkers had overrun the town and they lost their children Spencer and Aiden to the herd.

Just because they were abundant in supplies right now didn't mean they'd allow themselves to grow soft and forget the core basics of survival. Nothing lasts forever.

Deanna's people thought they were safe. They were not, and Rick’s not about to make the same mistake that he did a couple years before again. Paul, Ezekiel, Cyndie, three humans leading their own respective small groups that they chanced upon the road and taken in, were driven out of their communities down South by something called The Whisperers.

The leader called herself an Alpha. That should have clued Rick in that there were possibly other Shifter groups out there. But the woman Alpha was a lone wolf at best. She didn't turn anyone in her group. Did not trust anyone at all. Her daughter, an omega, never knew what it was to be around pack and hated her mother. She ruled with an iron-fist and killed anyone within her ranks who questioned her authority.

While Rick and his group isolated themselves within Arcadia's walls, occasionally taking survivors in that they discerned truly needed help, the Whisperers kept growing until they nearly reached the border to Rick's town. Which resulted in kidnappings and deaths that, despite having killed their damned Alpha and most of the Whisperers scattered after the war, continued to haunt Rick up to the present day. 

They had not been a match for Rick's group. They were not even united. But their numbers had still been overwhelming. In the aftermath some of them begged to be taken in, risking life and limb, crying out how they never wanted to serve the psychopath that was their leader. They knew what she was. She scared them, conducted "setting up an example" meetings enough times to know they were never going to be able to leave with their lives. But they saw Rick and his pack. How they always protected each other during the fight, always had an eye out to help and assist a fallen comrade, whether human or wolf and they desperately wanted to be a part of that.

After much deliberation and a year's worth of probationary period, they were pardoned and allowed to live under Arcadia's governing powers but were sent to the Sanctuary to stay along with the former Savior numbers. 

After that whole fiasco, scouts were back being sent out on the regular, keeping an eye on any nearby camps or settlements that could prove to be problematic or dangerous or both. Food and water were rationed. His core family had to be armed at all times, even if it was simply for show for the rest of them carrying the wolf in their blood. No one was going to get the drop of them ever again.

"Hoping we get a good haul on this run." Rick says as he lifts his head a fraction only to rub his nose against his hunter's chest, fingers dancing down toward the still small swell of Daryl’s stomach. It’s another thing that Rick’s eternally grateful for his hunter, giving Rick, highly unexpected but nevertheless welcomed, two beautiful children and another on the way. Rick purrs when Daryl rakes fingers through his hair and tugs. Since the pregnancy Daryl developed quite the obsession with his curls. Not that Rick’s complaining.

"Be careful out there." Daryl says whisper-soft.

Rick smiles and nuzzles on a firm pec. "You know I always do. Got you and our kids to think about." he says tenderly, stroking the belly of his mate with the span of his hand.

Daryl returns his smile as Rick begins to absently nibble on the silver-link chain necklace on Daryl's chest as he rubs his pregnant mate’s stomach. The dog tags are engraved with their names with the word Forever written in flowing script on its surface. Daryl’s own tag reads _ Hunter _ while Rick has his own version that says _ Sheriff. _

Daryl, the clearly creative part of their duo, surprised Rick with personalized couple dog tags instead of rings as those things tend to break upon transformation. Despite claiming he had no romantic bone in his body, he reinforced the original accessory with a silver-link chain as their sort of wedding slash bonding gift. He also made sure that he got Rick's neck measurements just right in wolf form to avoid any risk of choking.

Rick barely takes the chain off, and so does Daryl.

"Don' eat it, man." Daryl berates, chuckling. “Ya actin’ like the one wit’ the weird cravings.” He gently yanks his mate upwards by his soft curls coupled with a tender whisper of _ C'mere ya silly thing _ against his mouth before he has Rick's lips on his own, his thighs sliding open invitingly as Rick slots comfortably between them.

They don't leave the bedroom for another hour.


	2. Supply Run Gone Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to ItCouldAllBeForNothingTommorow who let me know about the Fandom updates earlier this year (around March I think.) when I reposted this story and unfortunately had to delete it because of stupid accidents and life in general. Thank you so much for the information and the rant hon. It was very much appreciated. I hafta admit, rereading that definitely fueled me back into writing this story. So thank you so much. If you're still around, I owe you one.

Their supply run that day will mostly be for Maggie's baby shower. She's eight months along with their second child and Hershel Dale Rhee, once dubbed HD by a giggling Carl, has grown to be a bubbly and cheery six year old and a very excited big brother to be.

Maggie herself is positively blooming.

The eldest Greene sister is perpetually smiling and pink-cheeked with bright sparkling eyes. Her mood swings are finally a thing of the past much to her family's relief. Maggie's always been a force to be reckoned with all on her own, but pregnant and with those motherly instincts kicking in, especially now with the wolf-blood coursing through her veins, she is not someone anyone wants to cross; definitely not during her first and second trimester in particular with her hormones flaring up every now and again.

Rick's pretty sure Maggie's going to end up breaking more than Glenn's hand once she goes into labor. Daryl sure obliterated Rick’s fingers when he’d gone into labor for the twins himself.

Carl became a Shifter at age nineteen. The perfect picture of ecstatic and proud because he was finally the same as his dads and uncles and aunts and he always made sure that Rick didn't forget it for a second. All that alpha posturing from his son never failed to give Rick a headache. Carl has been very vocal about that year's annual pack run. If anyone asks Rick, his boy’s just excited to finally be able to race alongside Beth.

Beth had taken the wolf bite last month and took to it like a fish to water, her taupe-colored fur a beautiful sight to behold with forest green wolf eyes. It was Maggie that bit her and showed her the ropes of being a Shifter, specifically of being the female variety. 

The jeep's door pulls open and Glenn plops down on the leather seat with a dopey grin on his face and a couple of bruises decorating his neck. The marks no doubt match the same ones Rick's wearing after Daryl was done with him. One of their kind's perks was accelerated healing, fastest when they are in full wolf form, but they also had the ability to slow the process, and Glenn, just like Rick, is making it a point to keep the bruises and scratches from a passionate night from disappearing on their flesh just yet. Rick loves the constant reminder in fact, of what caused the small aches and pains coursing through his body as the day progresses.

Glenn leans against the headrest, glancing at Rick with a shit-eating grin and fist bumps him jovially, Tara's influence through and through. Rick looks back towards the entrance of their home, seeing Noah on gate duty deep in conversation with his mate.

"Had a good night, Glenn?" Rick says with a raised brow, side-glancing him and matches grin for grin. He can smell the lingering smell of sex on his practically brother and that might just be too much information about Glenn's sex life first thing in the morning, but Rick's happy for him.

"The best." Glenn answers with a whistle and perks up as he adds cheekily, "And morning too." He tilts his head towards Daryl's figure by the gates. "And you?"

"You really have to ask?" Rick half-laughs at the expression on Glenn’s face, no doubt recalling the times he walked in on him and Daryl in the middle of coupling before they found Arcadia. He had the rare gift of squawking like a traumatized bird at the sight of them, apologies spilling from his lips as Michonne laughed herself sick in the background.

Glenn ducks his head, sheepish. "Yeah, stupid question." he amends as Rick starts the engine and the jeep goes on a slow roll towards the gates. Daryl tears himself away from his conversation with Noah, hand protectively pressed against his poncho. He nods once at the younger man before he makes for Rick's side of the jeep.

The hunter greets Glenn with a  _ hey _ and a nod before his focus zeroes in on Rick, blue-gray gaze softening and a smile lifting at the corners of his mouth. Rick leans in and winds long fingers around Daryl's neck as he brings their lips together for a bone-melting kiss.

Daryl’s pupils are blown wide as soon as they part, nothing but a ring of blood red in the middle where his irises should be. Rick can smell the arousal from his mate and has to fight back a possessive growl from escaping him, tamping down the urge to spread Daryl on the hard concrete ground and take him then and there.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." Rick says, a low groan letting loose up his throat with his amber gaze locked in on Daryl's own, alternating between his eyes and the inviting curve of his lips. "Fuck, I want you right now."

Daryl chuckles, and damn he's enjoying this, Rick realizes. His hunter loves getting Rick all hot and bothered on his way outside the gates, Daryl's arousing scent a constant thought at the back of his mind.

"I'll still be here when you get back." Daryl replies, voice low and smooth like butter, licking his lips and purring like a cat. Daryl’s pregnancy always makes Rick attuned to his mate’s hormonal changes and emotions and three days away all of a sudden seems like a lifetime.

"You better be." Rick practically growls. “Spread out for me, wouldn’t you darling?”

"That's the idea." Daryl continues with that same damn purr and a wicked gleam in his rose eyes. He inches closer, whispers directly in his ear. "I’ll even prepare myself. Loose enough for you to slide straight home the second you’re through our bedroom door, Rick.”

Rick bites back a moan. As much as he appreciates being fed that absolutely beautiful mental image, it’s really such an inconvenient time to get a boner, especially since he sees Glenn at the side view mirror suddenly staring resolutely at the wheel like it’s the Holy Grail, most likely hearing what Daryl promised. 

Three days can’t come soon enough. Maybe they could finish the run in two.

"Get outta here." Rick grumbles with an unimpressed and miserable pout. Daryl laughs and lunges for him all affectionate-like, bumping foreheads and nuzzling cheeks and Rick can't help but whine pitifully at the easy and comfortable touches. Well, until Glenn rudely clears his throat and grunts, "Any day now, gentlemen."

Rick and Daryl reluctantly pull apart, one last lingering kiss between them, _ I love yous _ exchanged before Daryl has to back away like it physically pains him, clearly feeling Rick’s misery through their bond. He slaps his hand against the jeep's side door and wishes them the usual good luck, and the reminder to keep an eye out for each other.

Daryl lingers. "Got everything ya need?"

"Yeah." Rick answers, his expression turning somber as he feels a sudden tightening at the pit of his stomach. Like dread feeling like lead down his gut. He drinks in the sight of his mate as if he's a drowning man, memorizing every little detail, fingers twitching to reach out for him, for their unborn child and never ever let go. Rick doesn't understand where the strange feeling is coming from or what's causing it, but it's making him uneasy, the fine hairs on his neck standing up on end. "Hey, can you make sure to put more guards to keep a steady lookout on the surrounding area?"

"What's wrong, Rick?" Daryl asks with a worried frown, reading him easily, in tune with his mate's emotions.

"I just... have a bad feeling." Rick lets out and takes a quick survey of the inside of their home, bites on his lower lip lost in thought. "Ask around if anyone's sick. Have Denise and Beth do a check-up. I know we just did one a couple of weeks ago, but I don't..."

"Hey, ya don't hafta explain." Daryl intervenes before Rick drives himself into a fit. "I trust yer instincts alpha."

"Hey, guys... what's going on?" Glenn chimes in.

"Rick's got'a bad feeling." Daryl supplies.

Glenn's eyes widen, worried and alert. Rick's bad feeling was what saved Beth just in time from getting a bullet to the head back at the Grady Memorial Hospital. And the last time Rick had a bad feeling about something, they had to deal with a baseball bat-toting psycho nutjob and his group of biker boy plunderers stumbling upon their walls.

Dwight and Tina, two of the Alexandrians had volunteered information of prior knowledge about the group of men, their leader in particular while on an emergency Council meeting geared towards eliminating the threat. Had confessed that they once belonged to the same group that called themselves the Saviors. Explaining how they barely escaped and made it out alive before Aaron saw them on the road in one of his recruitment runs and took them in. It was just dumb bad luck that Tara, Noah and Rosita came back from their supply run just as the said threats strutted and tutted outside their gates and held them at gun point, as insurance, while their leader Negan asked to talk to the man in charge.

Rick did not for one second, buy Negan's initial excuse of merely having gotten lost and asking them nice, civilized folks for help so they can all be on their way and out of each other's hair without anyone getting hurt. He brought close to fifty men with him. That was not getting lost, that was a man who'd been watching them from afar and had enough information to draw from that Rick and his family was small game and would be easily overwhelmed and pushed to their knees without much of a fight. He was there to take control of Rick's home right under his fingers just like the Governor had done. Small mercies that the enemy didn't seem to know about the secret of Rick's family that held them at an advantage; that they were literal wolves in sheep's clothing, else they wouldn't have been so stupid to see Rick and his pack eye to eye.

Dwight and his wife only further confirmed Rick's suspicions of the type of game Negan liked playing at. The man had charisma, a voice that carried and demanded respect and though it grated immensely on Rick's instincts to keep his head bowed and to appear meek before the enemy as Negan proposed a negotiation of Rick and his people giving fifty percent of their town's supplies from there on out, Rick was able to keep the facade of the unassuming, weak and soft-hearted man that just wanted to make sure his people stayed safe and was willing to do anything to keep it that way. Carol drove the point home of just how weak the citizens of the town were, how sheltered they were behind their walls with her superb acting skills of being the frail, doting older sister to Rick that just didn't want any trouble.

They let the plunderers walk out their gates with Negan promising he'd be back in a week's time to get his stuff, already taking half of their supplies anyway on that same day, not knowing any better that Rick and his pack already had a good whiff of their scents. That they were going to be slaughtered on their road to home in the cover of the night. Negan couldn't be allowed to live. He was bad news and their strength was in their numbers according to Dwight. He was a sick sonofabitch that loved striking fear in the hearts of men, had an unhealthy obsession with bashing people's heads in and if that man had a wife, he was gonna take 'em to serve as part of his collection of distraught widows to fuck.

Naturally, Glenn was all for making sure that the bastard get put down before he could come anywhere near his wife and sister-in-law and lay his dirty hands all over his two most precious girls in the world.

They had to strike first. Leave not one soul alive. 

The pack had been all for it. 

They attacked Negan's people right where they camped out for the night on their way back to their base. Making the uniform decision of eliminating the problem early on, cut the head so to speak. 

Without Negan to lead, having never returned to their Sanctuary with the men he took with him, the title for being the new boss was up for grabs and no one could decide who the new leader was going to be. Some guy named Simon tried, but it didn't hold for long. The Saviors broke off into smaller factions giving Rick and his pack ample opportunity to pick them off one by one in the following months. They didn't kill everyone, some they let go when they no longer posed any threat and was just trying to survive. Workers, most of them. Turned out there was quite the number of Negan's followers that only followed him, kneeled before him and allowed to be owned because they felt like they had no other choice.

"We should stay inside the walls. We can do the supply run another day." Glenn quips, more than okay with staying put where he can keep his eyes on his pregnant wife and son.

If Rick had a penny for every time he had a bad feeling, he'd be a millionaire in the Old World.

He shakes his head. They have to do the supply run today. A day without going breaks up rotation, plus they already had a couple of destinations in mind for the things they'd need for the Shower. And then it's just going to be a few stops after that to find the usual things included in their supply runs. One day could mean the place could go up in flames or looted by stragglers and he can't ruin it for Maggie just because he had a bad feeling. Hell, everybody was excited about the baby shower. Surely, Daryl and the rest of their core family of Shifters can keep Arcadia safe while he's not around.

"We have to do this today. We'll be quick." Rick says mind made up. He looks at Daryl and receives a nod.

"Ya be careful out there too. Yer so focused on our safety here, Rick. But yer the ones gon' be on the road." Daryl points out, reaching out a hand and curling his fingers around Rick's forearm. "Don' worry. I'll keep us safe here. We all will. Ya just best watch out for yerself and Glenn." The hunter says, and then grins. "Don't let him outta yer sight. Ya know he still trips when he's on them four legs."

"Hey!" Glenn pipes up affronted. "That was one time, Daryl. One time!"

Daryl smirks. "Sure, keep tellin' yerself that, man."

Rick can't help but break into a laugh, the feeling of dread in his gut receding at least some by his mate and brother's antics. "Hey now, settle down. We all tripped at one point. There's no shame in it."

After a few gruff exchanges that were really more playful in nature, Rick and Daryl kiss one last time telling the other that he'll see him soon before they're driving the rest of the way to the entrance and crossing the gates until they're outside of Arcadia's massive walls.

Rick kept watching the rear-view mirror until Daryl was nothing but a dot in the distance before he fully focuses on the path the jeep is taking through the woods. Soon enough the jeep is coming out onto the main road and Rick feels somewhat bereft, already missing his family. 

Glenn beside him looks just about the same as he feels.

Rick shakes off the gloomy feeling that's just beginning to creep up and wrap around his heart. He trusts Daryl to keep their family and their children safe. Walker bites no longer had any effect on them, coupled with accelerated healing and a near impenetrable flesh when it came to bullets, though too much at once can still potentially kill anything that moves, nothing should be able to harm them too badly outside the safety of their home.

Rest assured Rick will be back to his children and his mate's comforting arms in no time at all.

He didn't think he'd be so wrong.

* * *

Rick comes to awareness with the sun in his eyes and the sensation of something sticky and wet sliding down his temple. He doesn't need to bring a hand up to know he's cracked his skull. The smell of blood is strong. He tries to move from his position on the unforgiving damp ground and has to grit his teeth when the slightest motion causes a stabbing pain to shoot up his spine.

"Sonofabitch." Rick rasps out, jaw clenching and ignores the pain as he slowly, agonizingly takes inventory of each limb. Relieved to know that aside from a sprained right ankle and dislocated left shoulder, nothing seems to be broken. Still smarts like a bitch, however, even as he can feel the lycan blood begin to heal his injuries, the worst he can assess being the wound on his lower left stomach where he can feel blood soaking through. He must have hit a jagged rock on his way down.

It's going to be a few minutes before he can get up.

Rick lets out a world-weary sigh, the back of his head making a low thumping sound as it connects once more with the soggy ground. The injured man winces, reaches up to carefully feel along his hairline where the blood is sluggishly dripping down half of his face and ends up bumping his fingers against something hard stuck in the skin. He haltingly yanks the thing out with his good arm, eyelid twitching like he's having a seizure as the pain spikes and more blood trickles out.

With a grunt, Rick has the object loose and on his open palm to accusingly stare at. It's a shard of glass from the jeep, when he hit the windshield from the impact and went sailing through the air. He prods at his face, fingers catching on more than a few stinging cuts, looks at his forearms and sees multiple half-healed lacerations as well. He cocks his head up, hoping to get a better view of how far he nose-dived from the road, but can only see trees and leaves and winding roots. Pebbles and stones and rocks. Plus dirt and even more dirt. Though going by the looks of things and how much his body is protesting, it must have been a long tumble down with him ending up at the bottom of the ravine.

He knew something bad was going to happen. He felt it. His instincts basically slapping him in the face with how wrong it felt to leave, and yet he didn't listen.

They were almost done with the run. One more stop and they were good to return home, loaded with the needed supplies for the baby shower, merely missing a couple of things on the list provided to them. Hell, they even came across Denise's request for Tara's favorite soda, along with more medicine and canned food, new seeds to cultivate and add to their growing farmhouse. Glenn was driving and they'd been playing a game of I-Spy that was becoming old fast but was good enough to pass the time. They didn't see a lot of walkers for the past two days, didn't see any other humans either.

It had been a fairly uneventful run. Quiet. Peaceful.

The sun was down and their surroundings had gotten sufficiently dark as they drove along a rather tricky stretch of road. They were looking for a place to stay the night before doing their last stop the next day.

Or at least that had been the plan.

All Rick remembers is the image of a stag appearing out of seeming nowhere chased by a herd of walkers, of the jeep swerving and the sound of brakes hitting and glass shattering; the weightlessness, then hitting the ground, pain punching him in all directions as he kept rolling.

He thinks he might have heard Glenn scream his name.

Its stupid. He should have known to put a seatbelt on, then he wouldn't have been in this predicament. He can only hope that Glenn, the one who clearly had the brains to secure himself, got out of the road okay.

_ He's fine, Rick. Kid's obviously smarter than you. Now stop pouting. Shit already happened. What ya hafta do now's get on yer ass an' come back home. _

"In a minute, sweetheart." Rick tells the voice in his head, Daryl's deep and gruff voice ordering him to return to his family giving him the needed boost to climb out of this shithole. Torturingly slow, he pulls himself up to a sitting position, stifling a sharp cry of pain from erupting out of his throat when his ribs creak from the act.

He lifts his shirt to further assess the damage.

The wound on his stomach looks a mess, but it's healing so he's not too worried about it. Bruises are minimal at least. It had been night when he plummeted over the side of the road. The wolf-blood no doubt began the healing while he was out cold. He's gonna need to Shift to his wolf form as soon as he's able in order to hurry things along. Bracing himself, Rick cradles the dislocated shoulder by his side and curls his right hand over the tender flesh, thankful for Carol, not for the first time for teaching Rick how to do this for himself. Its saved him from a lot of pain more times than he can count.

Rick twists the upset joint back into place. Despite his best efforts, expletives still spewed out of his mouth at the burning agony the act caused. He takes a shaky breath and afterwards, tests his left arm and shoulder's mobility, finds the pain has reduced to a dull ache.

He can't do much for the sprained ankle but he knows as soon as he's on all fours, that shouldn't be too much of a problem. He slowly rids himself of his boots, comforted to notice that it didn't hurt as much as the shoulder did. Next, he peels off his black shirt and gray-button down, painstakingly followed by Rick shimmying out of his pants and boxers. He folds his clothes, boots on top of the pile and shoves it under a heap of branches and dried leaves that he's collected from around him.

Rick Shifts and gingerly picks himself up on all fours. Or three as it may since he can't quite lean heavily on the injured paw without yelping. Even so, Rick can already feel the healing process accelerate and it will only be a matter of time before he's fully functional again. With his nose in the air, Rick sniffs his surroundings as he tries to search for Glenn's scent, hoping to get an idea of which direction his friend was at hours ago so he can follow his trail and go back up the road. He can't smell him anywhere however, which Rick quickly surmises he must be either pretty far down or Glenn didn't so much as try to follow him down the ravine to search for his sorry ass. This spikes a wave of worry in Rick because that's not like Glenn at all. Seeing in the dark hasn't been a problem for his family since becoming Shifters. For sure, once Glenn was done taking care of the herd and most probably hunting the stag for the meat, if the walkers didn't get to it first, Rick knows that his friend, practically brother would not leave him behind without at least trying and leaving his scent for Rick to follow.

That could only mean Glenn had been in a position that hindered him from coming to Rick's aid or that Glenn' s decided it was better to go home first and get an extra set of hands to help with the search. 

Rick really fucking hopes its the latter.

The sound of groans and shuffling feet assault his ears making Rick curse the second he looks to his left and sees several walkers coming his way.

Only then does Rick realize his luck that walkers didn't stumble upon him while passed out, else these things would have been elbow deep in his viscera by now and then he'd really be dead. The thought of his mate and son finding him like that, with his guts hanging out and all chewed up has Rick swallowing down bile.

He can't do that to any of them.

Rick takes a hobbling step back and another, waiting for the right moment to Shift to his hybrid form.

Standing at eight foot of pure muscle, more than a dozen walkers is nothing against the former sheriff but he's not exactly a hundred percent yet either so it takes a bit more effort to stop the dead for good. Rick would rather not have the taste of rotting flesh in his mouth and so his aim is to bash their skulls in with clawed hands instead.

Once the walkers are taken cared of, Rick starts his trek up the ravine, figures the best and most straightforward way out of that dirt and rock infested incline was up. After a few failed, quite painful attempts, Rick's finally able to see the stretch of road ahead and Shifts easily to his full wolf form. Its one thing for an unsuspecting passerby to witness the sight of a five foot wolf, but it's an altogether different matter to come across an eight foot fanged and clawed figure and not have any human want to empty their guns on him out of instinctual fear.

A dozen bullets a time might not kill Rick's kind, but pain is pain and up close, a headshot's still a headshot and he's not dumb enough to risk his life that way.

He emerges to the empty road, with his nose pressed to the ground, still trying to get a whiff of Glenn but finds absolutely nothing. Alarm bells begin ringing in Rick's head as he surveys the immediate area. There are no glass shards, no tire tracks telling of abrupt breaks. Hell, there isn't even a single walker's dead body in sight. He finds it hard to believe that Glenn didn't at least knife a few, or ran over a couple with the jeep before driving out of there, hopefully straight to Arcadia.

Rick puts weight on his injured hind paw and lets out a relieved burst of breath when it doesn't make him yelp. His left shoulder, now front leg don't ache as much as it did earlier too. Running for home looks to be his only choice left as he's clearly never going to get the answers he needs by just standing at the side of the road.

He'd also very much like to avoid worrying Daryl and his children further than he no doubt already has.

Rushing towards home as fast as his four paws could carry him, Rick's thoughts inevitably begin recounting what occured during and after the fall. He can't really make heads or tails of it but he knows he felt something, aside from the pain, when he hit the ground rolling. Like the world shifted and he came out of it not quite right.

Even now, he feels a persistent sense of wrongness at the back of his neck and can only dearly hope it doesn't mean anything nefarious had happened to his family.


	3. Lost and Found

Fifteen miles out from non-stop running and Rick's sure his lungs are about to collapse in his chest. His muscles are burning something awful, long tongue flapping in the wind. He's so thirsty he could really use a gallon or ten.

Catching sight of the familiar copse of trees that serve as cover for their home from unwelcome eyes, Rick gains faster momentum despite the ache in his bones. Just the thought of coming home to his children and Daryl, with his arms around them and their arms around him, their scents filling his senses, is more than enough to make him forget how he's practically dead on his feet from exhaustion and the sun beating down his back. 

As soon as he's under the shade of trees and fast approaching the path he'd used a mere couple of days ago, Rick however abruptly halts to a stop, feeling his knees just about give from under him, heart dropping by his feet at the nightmarish sight that greets his eyes.

_ No. _

_ The gates are open. _

_ Please don't. _

_ Walkers roamed everywhere. _

_ No no no no! _

He plows through the mass of rotting, shambling bodies, making straight for the center of the town square where the walkers are at the thickest. Dead, unseeing eyes turn to track the sound of Rick's frantic howling, pleading for his family, for anybody to answer. There’s no reply and so he rounds for home towards the main mansion at the north part of town with the dead on his heels. Rick bursts through the front door in his hybrid form, hinges falling off like sandpaper as he rushes straight for the living room, the children's bedrooms.

"Daryl! Carl! Judith!" Rick calls out loudly, near hysterical in his worry, but there's still nothing but the sound of walkers that seem to blanket the entire town. "Riley! Dylan!" 

Standing at the open door of the master bedroom, his chest heaving and tears threatening to spill, Rick takes a wide-eyed survey of its four corners. Realization dawns like quicksilver that no, no, this is not his home.

The color of the sheets and curtains are wrong. Gone are the pictures of his children decorating the nightstand. Pictures of the six of them. The rest of their core pack, of him and Daryl locked in an embrace, a candid shot that Beth had taken during their second year anniversary.

The half-finished book he bookmarked that day he left on his side of the bed is gone. He doesn't see Daryl's favorite cap or his glovebox, his crossbow or the pair of sunglasses that Carl gave Daryl on his birthday, one he's always worn despite saying things like that ain't really him, but that the discomfort was worth it to see Carl smile seeing him wear the gift.

Going through the drawers and the closet, it becomes fully clear that there is not a single article of clothing or object to serve as proof that they occupied this room, that they lived here or that they made love on that bed so many times Daryl had been sure it was going to break.

In between bashing the skulls of walkers that is trickling in from the outside, Rick checks the twins', Carl and Judith's rooms again, finding them just as void of anything that belongs to his children. Not even their beloved scent. Not the faintest trace or any lingering smell from his five most precious people met his nose in the place where their scent should be the strongest.

With a despairing roar, Rick turns and puts the walker suddenly stumbling out of the closet in a chokehold. He's about to separate its snarling, mangy face from the rest of its flailing body by squeezing its neck when its features register to Rick as vaguely familiar.

Rick's eyes widen, disbelief joining the grief. It’s the original owner of Arcadia. He remembers Daryl putting a knife to this walker's skull. How the hell is it still lumbering around?

Rick doesn't have time to ponder on such a discovery. Or that he's just noticing how some of these walkers look to have bled from the eyes, like the first time they came across the town and took the land from the dead. Rick puts the walker out of its misery and leaps for the third floor of the mansion, pushing open the windows and scans the entirety of the walker-infested town.

He studies the dead bodies on the ground and the walking dead but doesn't see any face that belongs to his core and extended family. There's no sign of Eugene or Morgan or Noah. There’s no dead Alexandrians. Denise or Heath, Reg or Deana, Jesse or Ron or Eric. No fresh blood on the ground. Like everything happened years ago and the place had been untouched since.

He takes another sniff of the air and is hit with a wave of disquiet and utter despair by what meets his nose. Nothing but the smell of rot and death. For a second Rick worries his sense of smell broke but dismisses it quickly as he can smell other unwelcome odors just fine.

Tears sting his eyes, trailing down his fur-covered face as he drops on his ass like a puppet with its strings cut. WIth clawed fingers clutching his head, a wounded and wailing howl comes from his chest as he begins to rock back and forth. Not understanding. Not accepting.

It has only been three days. How is it possible for Rick's whole world to just... disappear?

It doesn't make sense why his family, his beautiful, strong kind-hearted hunter, his precious beautiful twins, his darling baby girl, his stubborn and determined boy were just... gone.

He has to find them. He _ needs _ to find them.

Rick doesn't know the first thing to look for, or where to look for them as there's absolutely nothing to track, but he'd rather die first before he'd even consider giving up.

* * *

An Indeterminable Time Later 

The days, weeks or was it months, had all bled together and Rick could barely remember how it was to be human. Not after going so long without his mate and the rest of his pack.

For the past how many moons, he had nothing but walkers for company and strangers who shot him on sight in fear at seeing a lone five-foot blood-matted wolf. Then there were the ones that Rick avoided at all cost, men that smelled strongly of blood who found pleasure in killing anything that moved, dead or alive. Rick knew that it would only take one look at his hefty pelt and he'd be dead meat in the eyes of these men so fast he wouldn't know what hit him.

He’d been able to fool himself for a time that he was still the same Rick Grimes. But in his solitude, of having to survive on his own against herds of walkers, going crazy with thoughts of what happened to his family, where everyone could possible be, had taken a toll on his mental health. From constant worries for their safety, of having to run and hide every time the barrel of a gun was pointed at his direction, it wasn't long after that his human part stopped giving a shit about maintaining appearances of normalcy altogether.

Daryl always said that it was not healthy to let the wolf take control for long periods, to always make sure he shifted back to his human form every now and then. But Rick, operating on constant anger, fear and heartbreak over the prolonged agony of their separation, there came a time that changing between forms became increasingly difficult. Eventually, he had to stop trying as Shifting simply seemed to take too much effort.

He had been wandering as a wolf ever since.

For what felt like an eternity, there was not a single prey that he could hunt. There was no water either. Rick was starving and dehydrated. Closest to death he ever was. Looking back, it largely explained how humans got the jump on him. Rick's survival instincts went haywire the second he was caught, a clean shot to the side of the neck. It was a bloody and violent reminder that he was never going to see his mate and children again if he didn't get_ up, up, up and maim, rip, kill, eat _before the assholes could put him down on the ground for good.

He did what he needed to survive, Rick told himself the times he felt relatively human enough to feel guilt over his actions. Rationalizing that it was either he ended up as someone's food or he took what he needed from his captors to live. The reminder of Terminus sat heavy in his heart, but he needed meat and something to quench the thirst even if it ended up belonging to a human. When there was no animal meat to go on for days, Rick would emerge from whatever hole he had dug up in and hunted the living for food instead.

He was not giving up without doing all he can for a chance to return to his family.

Rick knew he was already so much more wolf than man. He'd been a wolf too long. He couldn’t even remember how to talk anymore. He tried, at least at first. It really worried him how he could barely form the syllables to say his name, or Daryl's or his children. They were always at the forefront of his mind of course. Impossible to forget someone that was a fundamental part of your being. But saying their names out loud became steadily hard and challenging the longer he was alone until his capacity for speech deserted him altogether.

Rick sometimes wondered if this was what happened to the Shifter that attacked Daryl in his teenage years. Did it get separated from its pack? Lost its mate in that permanent way that Rick refused to think about? Went batshit insane from the loss? Because Rick felt seriously close to loosing his own fucking mind without Daryl and his children to keep him tethered. It terrified him that one of these days he was going to screw up and bite off more than he could chew.

Then where would it get him? Dead with no hope of ever reuniting with his missing pack.

Small mercies that at present, Rick seemed to have entered a territory that, while one would not call abundant with game, it was large enough of a hunting ground. He liked the convenience of catching a rabbit or two without possibly crossing paths with humans.

In his search for a lake to take a dip in, as his fur was matted again and he smelled about as rank as the dead, Rick spotted a cabin in the woods that looked to have belonged to a couple of hunters. Emphasis on the couple as the cabin had enough pictures of the two men, clad in their hunting gear, holding hands or in a lip-lock with a wolf's carcass up front.

It was a morbidly fascinating realization that he managed to come across a cabin where hunters once lived, ones that would not only shoot him on sight but take a damn photo of Rick's dead ass and add it to their collection of kodak moments if they had been around.

Agitated by the thought, Rick pawed at the pictures and watched them topple to the floor, piled them up and tracked mud all over their shattered frames on principle.

He ransacked the house, nosing into places with his tail hanging low, only to find the useless canned type with his non-existent opposable thumbs. At least there's still jugs of water sitting around. Thank fuck water never goes stale and so he drank his fill.

Feeling less dehydrated, Rick decided to go for a hunt next. The lake at the back of the cabin could wait. Food would always take precedence over a bath, no matter how tempting.

Luck seems to be on his side for once because Rick is on the trail of a deer an hour later, salivating like a rabid dog, his sharp canines bared. It has been a while since he’s had meat that good. Rick swears to bury his teeth into that beauty's neck even if its the last thing he does. Entirely focused on the hunt, Rick doesn’t realize getting too close to the road that the sound of a motorcycle coming his way just about gives him a heart attack.

The noise spooks the deer and it quickly runs to the opposite direction. Unwilling to let his prey escape so easily, Rick begins to give chase. But then a familiar, beloved scent catches his nose. Wide-eyed, his whole body goes rigid, head whipping towards the direction of the smell.

Rick sprints after the scent in a heartbeat, leaving grooves on the ground and paw prints as big as tire tracks. He makes a mad dash toward his mate’s side. Because it’s Daryl. There’s no mistaking him. As he comes closer, his canines bare in a vicious snarl, becoming angrier as he smells the stench of fear and hopelessness coming off of Daryl in waves.

His hunter is in a bad state. The smell of blood, old and new practically clings to him like a second skin. There are unwelcome odors on him, belonging to people that ain't family. There's no trace of their children on him or anyone else from the pack. Rick however can smell a trace of himself on Daryl. It’s faint but there. Because Rick knows it in his bones and his soul that no amount of time or separation can fully erase his mark on his mate.

It’s surprising that he reeks of Dwight. The thought has Rick gritting his teeth in fury at the implication it brings. And Dwight flat out smells wrong. He carries a faint scent of his wife, a bit of Rosita, but above it all, there's a scent that Rick never thought he'd smell again.

He reeks of that bastard Negan.

A supposed_ very dead bastard _ Negan.

Rick breaks through the foliage and onto the main road to the image of the back of a truck. 

His mate is seated among men with guns. Daryl looks like he's lost all the fight in him. His shoulders are hunched, absolute exhaustion mar his dirt-streaked face. His beloved hunter looks every bit like he was put through the wringer and then some.

Eyes watering, Rick knows with stone-cold certainty that these men are to blame. The wolf in his blood snaps its jaws, vision turning a red haze and amber eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. The siren call of blood, to rip and bite and render flesh becomes so strong he almost tastes it.

Rick snarls at the same exact moment one of the men's head turn. Frightened screams and frantic yells to shoot erupt from the group. Bullets fly towards Rick, but he evades them expertly as he gains momentum, probably looking every bit the feral wolf that he feels.

He sees stark fear in their eyes as he closes in. _ Good. _

Before anyone could so much as reload, Rick lunges for the truck, maw open and bites a man's head clean off. Blood sprays everywhere as he goes for the next kill and the next, all the while making sure Daryl is safely pressed to the side as he rips apart the men that dared to hurt him.

No one hurts Rick's family and gets away with it.

He's going to make every single one of these assholes pay.

* * *

Arcadia - Three Nights After Rick and Glenn’s Supply Run 

“Daryl, will you please stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy.”

“Why are they taking too damn long?” Daryl mutters under his breath to reply, but doesn’t stop in his frantic pacing. He regards Maggie on the couch in apology, too worried to stay still. 

“I’m sure they’re fine, Daryl. It’s not the first time any of us got delayed on a run.” She assures him as she waddles to his side and basically manhandles him to sit on the couch next to her.

He nods and allows himself to be led. He glances at the carpet and winces at the evidence of his pacing. He's not the type to be superstitious but having their picture frame shatter earlier in the night when them twins were playin' in the bedroom had driven him into a state.

It surely didn’t help that he heard the glass shatter the exact same time he felt his heart almost give out on him. He toppled to the floor while doing the damned dishes with Maggie, gasping for air and hit with a pain in his chest so excruciating he almost passed out.

Sophia gave him a clean bill of health. The babies are okay. Maggie don't seem to be in any state of distress. They’ve lived long enough as Shifters to know mated couples have a unique connection. Nothin' as crazy as telepathy or some other X-Men shit. But they tend to be emotionally attuned to each other. Jus' a state of simply knowing your other half’s existence and general well-being. He's gotta believe Rick is okay if Glenn is.

Daryl turns to Maggie anyway, nervously biting a nail. “He’s fine right? Ya can feel Glenn?”

Maggie gives him a concerned look. “Yes.” she says with knitted brows. “I feel him.” 

Daryl nods again, refusing to entertain more unsavory thoughts. Even though Rick confessed having “bad feelings” a few days ago, it didn’t hafta mean anything. None of the couples in their pack has experienced the loss of a mate. Considering their safety in Arcadia and near impenetrable defenses as Shifters, they’re hard to kill. No one’s even contracted a cold in years. 

So what if he can no longer feel Rick? Pseudo-psychic connections aside, Rick’s simply not the type to die easily. Daryl takes a shaky breath. But why does it feel like he just lost him?

Maggie rests a hand on his shoulder. “Hey.” She regards him softly, gently. They may not be mated but they’re still pack, family. And Maggie’s always been scary insightful to the emotional and mental state of the people around her. “What’s wrong?” Her eyes widen and Daryl hates putting that look there. “Why did you ask if I could still feel Glenn? Daryl?”

“S'nothing.” Daryl says. If she feels Glenn just fine, then he won't go causin' her unnecessary worry. “S'probably just because a' the…” He gestures at his midsection. He’s ne'er experienced suddenly losing connection with Rick when he’d been carrying the twins but he didn’t wanna think about the alternative. He’d rather take any other explanation but _ that _. “Hormones. Y’know.”

She looks like she doesn’t believe him, mouth opening for questions that Daryl don’t know how to answer. Carols saves him by descending down the stairs with Riley in her arms. “Pookie.”

“Papa.” His baby girl says as she swiftly opens up her arms for him, Rick’s gorgeous dark curls bouncing on her forehead. She settles on his chest, rubbing her cheek against the material of his shirt as soon as Carol hands her over and he has her wrapped in his embrace.

Daryl gingerly kisses the mop of her head. He forces the bad thoughts out of his mind and takes a calming breath. He has to focus on his daughter. “Whachu doin' up, Lil’Dynamite?”

Carol signals that she’s leaving but not before leaning down to give his temple a smooch too, then Riley and a tight hug for Maggie before excusing herself. It’s almost midnight. He’s so grateful for Carol in putting the children to bed when he couldn’t, while Maggie, though heavily pregnant decided to keep him company after his weird attack.

“Had a bad dream.” Riley replies, looking up at Daryl and blinking his late Ma’s blue-grey eyes at him. She looks around the immediate vicinity and her lower lip wobbles. “Daddy?”

“He still out darlin'.” Daryl tells her and tries to not let the cracks in his voice break through. He don't actually know if Rick is still out there. Not when he can’t feel him at all.

“I saw Daddy in my dream. He wus alone. Wanderin’. I keep callin’ ‘im but he din’t hear me.”

“Wus just a nightmare, sweetheart.” Daryl soothes his little girl. She’s four, but she acts older for her age that people sometimes mistake her as a big sister to Dylan when they’re actually twins. She’s shy. Quiet. Unless she’s with people she feels comfortable with. A complete opposite to her twin brother who thrives on attention and is quite the motormouth.

She’s quiet for a while as if weighing the truth to Daryl’s words before she nods her head. “Okay.” she says and resumes to rest her head on his shoulder. “Wake me up when Daddy comes back?”

“Of course I will. Don’chu worry your pretty little head. Daddy will be back soon.”

* * *

“What’chu mean he’s gone? People dun’ just fuckin’ disappear out of thin air, Glenn!”

“Daryl, please you need to calm down. You’re scaring the children.”

“I am calm!” Daryl retorts, trying his hardest to not go off the rails. Who called in the damn shrink anyway? What does she know when she don’t have a mate to speak of? Lucille Masters might have a PhD in psychology or some shit but she don’t know the first thing about Shifter connections so she better put a lid on it and go back to Alexandria.

“You’re being rude, Daryl.” Maggie frowns up at him. “You need to cool it.” she adds, gaze landing back on Glenn whose looking pathetic on the couch. Daryl feels like an asshole.

“It’s fine. I'm not offended.” Lucille interjects with her usual air of aggravating amiability. It ain't normal to be that chill. “And I won’t insult you by saying I know exactly what it feels to have a mate, Daryl. In the old world, I left my husband at the first signs of cheating. I still don’t understand this mated forever thing your… kind has going. You can let your emotions go, be mad, throw things if you feel like it will help. But not in front of impressionable children.”

Collective eyes dart to the stairs. He turns to look and promptly feels like shit when he sees Judith, Riley and Dylan looking through the railings with wide frightened eyes.

“Pa? Where’s Daddy? Why are all the grown ups here?” Dylan asks, not at all cowed by the tense atmosphere that’s blanketing the entire living room. Judith shushes him. He’s grateful it ain’t one of those nights when Hershel and Alejandro stays for sleepovers because if he’d been cussing with Rosita and Maggie’s children around, he was not going to hear the end of it.

Carol quickly shoos the kids back up the stairs, hot on their heels and Daryl sends her a silent thank you.

“Daryl. I tried searching for him brother. I really did. I followed him to the bottom of the ravine but he just wasn’t there. I lost his scent halfway down. It was like he just… disappeared.”

Disappeared. He didn’t think it was possible to hate a word. But everyone is right. It’s not Glenn’s fault and it’s stupid to blame him for something that Rick could have prevented from happening. Then again he can’t blame his mate for foregoing the safety precaution. He developed aversion to seatbelts since that time before the prison when he got stuck and Carl had helped him, refusing to leave his dad and the both of them almost became walker food. 

Daryl forces his shoulders down to take calming inhales and exhales. All those breathing exercises he’s had to sit through when he’d been expecting the twins, for better oxygen and blood flow and some such nonsense at least proves useful when he needs it.

When he feels somewhat in control again, he lets out a tired sigh and drops to the space next to Glenn. He asks him to recount the events that led to Rick literally flying off the passenger seat.

A little over an hour later, it’s decided that he was going to accompany Glenn to the accident site first thing in the morning. They didn’t see no trace of Rick. Not even a scent to go on with which just served to make Daryl’s worry skyrocket. The next day gave the same results, and the next and the next, until a week passed and there was still no sign of their leader.

A month came and went with no luck in their endeavors to find Rick. The rest of the pack became as worried and agitated as Daryl. A council meeting was formed and it was decided to send out three search parties to further widen the search parameters. 

The first team consisted of Glenn, Carl, Sophia and Daryl. The second one woud be Abraham, Heath, Denise and Andrea. Daryl didn’t remember much of who consisted the third group, other than Michonne, but knew each team had to have trackers, medical personnel and alphas.

Though Carl, Abraham and Michonne all presented as alphas when they turned, since it was Rick that gave them the bite, they naturally deferred to him as leader. It also takes an alpha to hold another alpha down. When Abraham contracted some sort of seasonal illness that had disastrous effects on an alpha’s temperament, Rick was the only one who could subdue him.

They had once also witnessed what happened to a Shifter separated from it’s pack for some time. Some group of assholes got the jump on Carl on a supply run a year before. He’d been missing for a week. When they found him, he already killed everyone in the compound and was acting too feral to be completely human. He didn’t let Judith, Dylan and Riley out of his sight when he returned. Carl said his kidnappers constantly made threats of hurting his siblings (as he carried a picture with him) if he didn’t spill Arcadia’s location. Carl snapped showing his kidnappers how much of a bad idea it was to threaten pack.

Physical injuries don’t bother them as much anymore too, but if Rick had indeed flown out of the jeep and into the bottom of the ravine, it definitely wouldn’t hurt to have a medic on hand. Plus he’s been missing for too damn long for Daryl’s peace of mind. He just needed to make sure that if they do finally find him, he was going to have all the help he needed.

“Please.” Daryl prays to any higher power that would hear. “Please let him be alive. Rick. Please wait for me darlin’.”

* * *

“Pa, I found something.” Carl’s voice rings out in the area where Rick disappeared. They’re back in the accident site and Daryl feels bone-tired from not getting any fucking results.

He glances at Carl’s approaching figure and has to remind himself for the hundredth time to not appear so depressed whenever his son looks his way. 

It’s been a struggle to not scowl and growl at anyone who tried to talk or simply wave their hand at him. Even his children were not exempt from his foul mood. Carol understood his heartache. She empathized with him, but not a day goes by that she didn’t give him a stink eye for loosing his temper on his clamoring, loud children. It was completely normal for them to keep asking for their father’s whereabouts. He wasn’t the only worried one. He hates having made Judith cry.

‘Don’t look so down, Pa. I think…” Carl nods resolutely like this is the best news he’s had in a long time. “I have a really good feeling about this. I’ve thought a lot about what Glenn said about losing Dad’s scent halfway down the ravine. Plus…” His voice turns quiet. “If he was dead, we should have seen a body by now. Do you remember those comic books I used to read?”

He does. There’d been a secret stash of old Marvel comic books in one of the houses in Arcadia and Carl had not put them down until he read every last one. God, had it really been seven years already? Carl used to resemble Lori a lot when he’d been younger, before the bite, all long limbs and baby cheeks, but he’s all Rick now at twenty-two. It kind of hurts seeing him, like when he looks at Riley cause they physically take so much after their missing father.

_Don't scowl Dixon. A fuckin' smile won't kill ya._

“Yeah. What about it?” He asks, gaze moving way behind Carl and has to blink when he spots something that looks to be shimmering in the distance.

“I have two words for you. Multiverse theory.” Carl says and Daryl can’t help but blink stupidly at the words that just came out of his son’s mouth. 

“I’m sorry. The what now?”

“Multiverse theory.” Carl says as if he’s expecting Daryl to know what in the horse’s ass it means. He sighs and starts dragging Daryl by the hand. “Come on Pa. I’m pretty sure I just found the portal that took Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work was orphaned before and unfinished but I've been working on this fic for the past few weeks so I'm pretty confident that I can complete it this time. After the bulk posting of the first three chapters, I will be updating the story every Thursday. I'm not caught up on the episodes yet and this fic was written around half of season 7 (the time I had to leave). I was made aware that the Rickyl fandom pretty much died around somebody left the show. I hope really ain't the case though.
> 
> If ya guys have anything to say about the story, I would love to hear it. Feel free to let me know in the comments section. Thank you :)


	4. Protector and Defender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lookie who's impatient and decided to post 2 chapters today? Lol. No seriously. I'm gonna be busy for the next 2 weeks for doctor appointments and more rehab and shit so I'm gonna be leaving this here now before I forget. Still unbetad so any mistakes are my own.

_ Maggie's dead. _

It takes all of Daryl's self-control not to fall apart on the spot as soon as he hears the news. He'd been trying to catch Rick's gaze when he thought Negan wasn't lookin'. Tryin'a give him the Sanctuary's location through morse code, though he knows it ain't working shit when his eyes kept waterin' in the sunlight after so long in the dark. But the second Maggie's death reached his ears, miscarriage they said, Daryl couldn't bear to look at no one no more, most of all Rick, shame and guilt swallowing him up like a black hole and sucking the fight out of him. 

He's better off dead, was the next thought that flashed through his head, crippling depression taking over. For a moment he welcomed the gun that Negan pointed at his head as he did his bidding in taking all of Alexandria’s weapons. Willing Rick to not do stupid shit as he stood nearby, tense and poised to act if and when Negan pulled the trigger.

He had Glenn killed, and now Maggie, along with the baby. No one in his family should want to have anything to do with him after what he'd gone and done. But Rick... he just knew that Rick won't even blame him for it even when what happened on the way to Hilltop, hell even Denise, was all his damn fault. How this shitstorm coulda been avoided if he'd only gotten rid of Dwight when he should. 

He don't deserve Rick bargaining for his freedom from Negan. Can't risk the asshole pulling out demands in exchange for his hide that could potentially get more of his family killed.

So he refused to take the damn bait, even when every fiber of his being wanted nothing more than to run to Rick and cry like a pansy on his shoulder, groveling for forgiveness that Rick no doubt would insist there was no need for. 

If he's going to take Negan down, then Daryl's gonna make damn sure his family’s as far away from that psycho as possible where he can't hurt them. Where he can't hurt Rick. Or Carl. Or Lil' Asskicker. He knows that as much as Maggie and Glenn's deaths pain him, of how much he cares for Carol, Michonne and the rest of their family, that if he was to lose any of them three most precious people in his life, Rick moreso, he won't be able to function no more. 

He'd simply cease to fuckin' breathe. 

Daryl's shaking limbs protest as he climbs the back of the truck. He gets shoved hard, nearly faceplanting on the truck's floor and breaking his nose if he'd been a second slower in breaking the fall. Jeers and raucous laughter erupt from the men following behind him. 

Fuckin' dickbags.

Taking his seat, Daryl finally manages to catch Rick's eyes as the truck's engine roars to life and the vehicle rolls away from Alexandria's gates. He feels the breath get punched out of him the second he sees Rick's face. His blue eyes are red-rimmed and wet with unshed tears as he watches. Angry. Helpless.

Daryl hates to think that his last memory would be of Rick's broken expression. Feels an immeasurable amount of regret that he never got around to telling him what he really feels. For years he's loved that man like the very air he breathes, had shown Rick the depth of his devotion in everything but words. And he's afraid that he ain't ever gonna be given the chance to form the words he's always been wantin' to tell him.

So he drinks his fill, stares at Rick and tries to convey feelings through his eyes that he could never utter with his mouth. And hoping that maybe, Rick will understand and won't hate him for it. Won't feel betrayed that Daryl's been looking at him more than a brother and didn't say nothin' all these years.

Once Rick is out of sight, Daryl opts to hang his head against his chest, appearing for all the world like he's one second from toppling over. Which is not so far from the truth. Dog food and lack of water can only do so much to provide him the energy he needs to keep going in between isolation and beatings. 

But he had years of abuse in his old man's hands. He might feel hopeless and defenseless with his current situation about eighty percent of the time, but he's a stubborn sonofabitch if nothing else. He didn't keel over and die all the times his Pa beat him growing up on worse fucking conditions. Learned to tune out the blows and grit his teeth through the humiliation and pain. Just a kid that didn't see an end in sight, had nothing to fight for and yet survived the shithole that was his life. What more now when he has family to defend and protect?

Daryl's vowed early on that if he is to die, he's going to take the bastard Negan down with him. In fuckin' pieces if possible. He wants to make it hurt. See the bastard suffer. He ain't got no concrete plan in mind yet, but Daryl knows with stone cold certainty that he can't allow that asshole to continue reigning terror on his family. Make a bad joke out of Rick.

He's dehydrated and the sun wasn't helping him any when he was carrying them boxes earlier. Daryl closes his eyes for a minute's worth of rest, shoulders dropping and half-curling in on himself. He gets a swat to the head which makes his vision swim when he opens his eyes. Someone calls him a bitch followed by more taunts, askin' if the bitch was gonna cry. He looks at the men in front of him, sight blurring yet still glares at them with all the anger he feels. Hates that he can't help but flinch when he sees the punch coming. 

But it never does. 

There's sudden shouts and guns going off that makes his ears ring. The inside of the truck goes dark. Something big is in front of his face, heavy and warm pinning him to the side as blood spray hit him in the face, saturating his clothes in between gurgling noises of the dying. 

The stench of blood and viscera is suddenly so strong he ends up gagging, only to get a mouthful of fur, which in turn makes him cough up like his chest is seizing. Daryl recoils the second his hand lands on a severed half-chewed head, brain matter sticking to his fingers, realizing that its the guy who was about to punch him. He gags more, sees blood flooding the inside of the truck ankle deep and shudders. 

The pressure on his chest leaves and he can see the outside of the back of the truck again. Whatever it was that attacked them is no longer in sight, but he can hear more noise around him, Negan cursing like a sailor up ahead as more shrieks of fear and the sound of flesh getting torn apart registers in his ears. Something keeps growling and howling, as if on a warpath, more gunfire and shouts. There's the sound of walkers groaning. He can see a number of them shambling out of the trees and Daryl really, really has to get the fuck outta there. 

He never gets the chance though as there's a sudden deafening boom, fire licking at his heels and he gets suspended in the air before gravity pulls him back down, his bruised and beaten body ricocheting around the corners of the truck like a pingpong ball. He thinks he hit his head three times before he lands hard on his side with the remains of the truck strewn around him. Fucking fuck! That was the rocket launcher. 

"Shoot it! Fuck, how the hell?"

"It's just a dumb animal. It's not supposed to dodge!! "

Despite the fucked up situation, Daryl can't help but let out a snort of dark amusement. Yeah, be afraid you assholes. Man's mostly dumb. Animals operate on pure instinct. Clearly, whoever said it was just a dumb animal haven't hunted shit in his life.

"Goddammit, it's fast! AHHHHHHH!"

"Franklin! Shit! Die you fucking beast! Oh crap!"

"Ted! Holy fucking hell."

"It keeps aiming for the heads!"

"Roamers! Let's get out of here!"

"Nick! Watch your... Fuck!"

Faintly he hears a chorus of panicked _ Let's gos and Leave its!  _ along with the groans of the undead. Walkers! Daryl curses, feeling monumentally fucked as he lies on the open road.

He ain't got any weapons with him and he can't physically get up. Too weak to so much as lifta hand. And something's seriously hurting him on the side. He hopes to fuck it ain't a damn broken rib. Is this how he's gonna die? Walker food? At least give him something to knife himself in the head with. Shit. There's truck debris around him. There should be stuff sharp enough he can use. He ain't about gonna let himself come back as one of them dead rotting bastards and risk coming across Rick and his family. 

But as much as Daryl wills himself to move, to do something, he can't. The edges of his vision is steadily getting dark. 

The last thing he sees before lights went out is of a giant wolf rushing towards him, thick fur a mess of red as if it took a bath in a sea of blood, its yellow eyes regarding Daryl intensely with the gaze of a predator riding high from fresh kills.

Shit. Shit shit shit. He was so screwed.

* * *

He comes out of consciousness with the image of trees and the sky in his direct line of sight and the feel of the hard ground against his back. There's a sound of rustling, of something getting dragged across a forest floor which he soon realizes to be him. Somethin's dragging him somewhere. Before he can fully understand what that means for his chances of survival, darkness comes back with a vengeance and pulls him under.

The next time Daryl opens his eyes is to the sight of canned goods surrounding him and a toppled over water jug and... he squints, not quite sure if that really is a can opener? 

He tries to move and winces as soon as he shifts, then promptly freezes when he hears a soft snort of breath directly to his right, ruffling the unruly strands of his hair. Daryl swallows, limbs coiling tight when he realizes that he's within chewing distance of a wolf's head and that he's half encased around the animal's enormous body, pressed so close that he can feel every inhale and exhale of the beast across his back. 

Quickly, his eyes dart around the room for a weapon and inwardly curses that he only has a pathetic can opener that can be used against such a massive animal. Won't matter now if he's just bruised his ribs. He's going to get fuckin' eaten.

Wait, how is that can opener on the floor? And why is there food and water at all? The wolf couldn't have... Daryl remembers the shouts he heard from the Saviors about their attacker being smart, how it was going for the heads. Even them predators can't be that intelligent. And it sure hell can't be tryin' ta feed a human when it'd just been eating people left and right. 

Wolves are known for their hunting skills and killing things either for food or just for shits and giggles. It sure won't be rescuing Daryl. Maybe its saving Daryl for its next meal? It could have adapted to the damn apocalypse when food is getting scarcer with each day and learned to store food.

Just Daryl's fucking luck.

Still don't explain why its curled around him as if protecting its young with food and water at the ready by Daryl's feet.

There's a low growl and Daryl practically leaps to his feet like them dumb cartoon characters back in the day. He turns his head and sees the wolf staring at him at the corner of its amber eye. Daryl has the can opener in his grip in a second, goes low with his arm out and body poised to stab. 

Now that he's facing the animal, he feels his spine go rigid as his head starts chanting  _ fuckfuckfuck  _ like a dying mantra when he realizes just how big the damn thing is. 

He's just about to go for the jugular, size difference be damned when the wolf puts its head down adjacent to the floor. It pushes a few of the canned goods towards Daryl with its snout, as if egging him to use the can opener already and eat the damn thing before he dies of starvation. When Daryl remains frozen, it huffs and lets out a short low bark. 

"Ya want me ta eat this?" Daryl asks, perplexed. Quite likely loosing his mind too since he's talking to a wolf.

It lets out another low rumble and nudges the water jug with it's nose too, lets out two barks like its ordering him to drink up.

Daryl's always prided himself in his instincts, known exactly when he should be fighting or running from danger to fight another day, knew the good ones from the bad. Aaron recruited him for the runs cause of that after all. But then Dwight fuckin' happened so really his instincts ain't worth shit. The logical thing to do is shut it up and just kill the beast. Somehow. So he can go back to his family. But then, its not attacking, and no matter how crazy it sounds, don't seem to have any plans for Daryl other than feeding him and getting him hydrated.

He ain't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Slowly, he takes one canned food, all the while keeping his eyes steady on the wolf for any hostile movement even as he begins twisting the can with the opener to get to the food inside. The wolf doesn't do anything but stare, ears perking up in encouragement when Daryl begins shoveling meatloaf into his mouth. There’s even peanut butter. Good Lord. He reaches for the half-empty jug, eyes still fixed on the animal before he opens the cap and sniffs inside. Don't smell like nothin' and so with a shrug Daryl drinks. 

The water sliding down his throat has never felt so damn good.

After he was done drinkin and pourin' a small amount over his face to get rid of the dried blood on his skin and hair, he strong arms the rest of the canned goods and the water jug and takes several steps back until the back of his knees meet the edge of the bed. He lands on his butt and forgets himself for a moment as he takes a survey of the rest of the room. He sees a nightstand, a closet, some posters. It's an actual bedroom with a bed. 

He looks back towards the wolf, noticing it has the bedroom door blocked as it lays sprawled on its side, his mind running a mile a minute. "Ya found this place and holed up here?" 

The wolf blinks at him before its head falls back to the floor where it proceeds to simply stare at the archer, like Daryl being there is all it needs in its life. What is with those eyes looking at him like that? Like its happy and depressed at the same time when its got its eyes on Daryl.

Fuck. Why do them deep yellows remind him of Rick? 

Now that Daryl's looking in between bites, he sees that the wolf is a rusty brown with specks of gray and red in places where blood didn't dry out just yet. Daryl checks out south of its body and sees that its a boy wolf, half of its tail singed. He stares, feeling angry on its behalf when he sees several bullet wounds on its large frame. The wounds don't seem to bother it all that much though so Daryl hopes it ain't dying or nothin'. 

_ Am I wishing the wolf lives and gets the chance ta eat me?  _

But if it wanted to eat him, shouldn't he be all chewed up by now? There was no way Daryl could have escaped that slaughter with them walkers approaching. He'd been prime for feeding all defenseless and helpless. And someone... something, had to have dragged him up to this... wherever this place is when he'd been out cold. And he's not heard no human around with the wolf growling and barking and him scrambling earlier from his position against its body. 

He studies the beast, meets its steady oddly warm gaze. There's something in its eyes that feels so goddamn familiar that he can't quite put a finger on but other than that, there's a look there too that Daryl thinks might've been the reason that it didn’t kill him.

What Daryl knows of wolves is that them predators run in packs. But this one's alone. His family could have been killed already or it got separated from the rest... like Daryl.

Maybe it felt that.... Daryl was just as alone?

Daryl tenses mid-chew when the wolf begins to pull itself up on shaky legs, wobbling for a second before it seems to get its feet under control and slowly inches towards Daryl. 

Damn. It's easily five feet tall. Prolly around six hundred pounds. 

Survival instincts kicking in now that he's got food and water in him, Daryl's ready to make a run for it or fight for his life, whichever he'd get the chance to do first, in case the wolf is in fact about to eat him. But then it suddenly noses into Daryl's groin, resulting in the archer letting out a loud yelp that he fuckin' hopes walkers nearby didn't hear. 

"Hey, get off! Stop that." Daryl hisses, feeling like ice has just been poured down his back as he tries to lift the giant head and the sharp fuckin' canine teeth away from his junk. All he gets is a low growl before the wolf starts trying to tug his pants off. "Woah! What are ya doing?"

The wolf pulls back and huffs an irritated breath at Daryl. It barks and then starts tugging at the hem of his shirt. When Daryl don't let up, it stops nosing into places it shouldn't and goes towards the closet and paws the closet door open. Daryl stares, jaw dropping. He's never seen a damn wolf, let alone any animal open closet doors like that.

_ S'prolly a circus wolf _ , Daryl thinks. Got lost from its family when the apocalypse hit. There sure ain't no wolves in this part of Virginia. Let alone something that big. And smart.

And apparently is a prissy shit that don't like how Daryl reeks.

"You want me ta put those on?" Daryl asks and gets another growl in reply. The wolf honest-to-god trots back to him and places a pair of pants and shirt on the bed. He's impressed. There ain't even slobber. "I know I smell like those fucks ya chewed up back there and ya didn't like them much, huh?" 

Another bark. And is it nodding its head?

Daryl purses his lips and shrugs. "Yeah. Can't hurt." 

And a change of clothes is definitely welcome. 

"I fuckin' hate this jumpsuit. Good thinkin'. Thanks." Daryl says, catching himself mid smile and sighs wearily because he's really talking to a wolf. He shakes his head and welcomes the strangeness of their exchange. He'd take having a one-sided conversation with an animal any day than hearing that fucking Easy Street song again in between them bastards inflicting to Daryl whatever strikes the asshole Negan's fancy. 

'Sides, there ain't no denying it. The wolf saved Daryl's life. Its the only thing that makes sense of how he's still alive and just had his first satisfying meal in weeks. His thoughts turn to Rick and the low supply Alexandria has on food, but mostly on Rick and their Lil' Asskicker. Christ, is she getting enough to eat?

"Shit. I gotta get back ta Rick. Lil' Asskicker. And Carl." He says, fingers raking through matted hair, a tired groan escaping him. He feels a tug on his sleeve and glances at the animal with a, "Yeah, I'll get dressed in a second." Only for it to growl in protest. "You're bossy ya know that?" 

He'd have a mind to call it Rick for the bossy attitude. Not just because he misses his best friend slash brother like a phantom limb. 

Daryl frowns. He can't really keep calling it wolf all the time though, right? He turns and focuses his attention on the huge animal and takes notice of the military dog tags at the center of its neck wrapped around a chain-link type of necklace.

"I'm gonna check yer tags. Easy and slow, alright? I ain't gonna hurtcha." Daryl says, putting up a hand in the space between them as if there's a chance he could hurt this beast when it really gets down to it. He's gonna make sure he goes down swinging though if it comes to that.

The wolf snorts as if sharing Daryl's train of thought of who the clear winner is in a fight between man and beast. He feels a bit offended. "I'll have ya know I'm a damn fine hunter. Took down a bear once so laugh it up." It didn't need ta know he shot the bear at a safe distance.

The wolf butts its head against Daryl's open palm, his fingers landing on the center of its forehead. He chances to rub the spot gently and Daryl's lips twitch in the corners when it begins purr-whimpering under his hand. It seems to like his touch. Daryl’s theory of the circus wolf, with how domesticated it seems at times is beginning to look more and more likely.

Slowly, he fingers at one of the tags. Most of the letters had faded, or it just needs a thorough cleaning for them words to pop up again so it doesn't just read  _ DickFever _ . Its prolly his owner's names engraved with the word Forever at the end or some other sentimental shit like that.

"Huh. Would you look at that. Yer name Sheriff?" Daryl grins as soon as he sees the word etched on the other tag and chuckles when the wolf barks in confirmation.

"I got this friend. He a sheriff too. Well, sheriff's deputy more like, don't see no difference really. Name's Rick." That gets another bark, almost like excitement to hear Rick's name. 

"He's great. Best man I know. I think yer gonna like him."

And that there is dangerous because Daryl's beginning to make plans as if he's taking the beast with him back to Alexandria. As much as it seems to like Daryl, enough for it to want to nurse him back to health, there's no telling how it'll react to others. To the rest of his family. He'd already seen what it did to the Saviors. It could just as easily snap when threatened.

Daryl's torn. It’s been nothing but helpful and kind and blinking up at him so innocently like it can't hurt a damn fly. But its still a threat and if Daryl leaves him here, or somewhere it can't go out again to hurt people, he'd just be sentencing it to a worse fate. He can't find it in himself to be okay with isolating or starving it. He knows the feeling all too well. So that leaves him with a mercy killing and that one sits just as heavily in his stomach as much as the other option.

Should he really be planning at all when he's as exhausted as he is? He's not clearly thinkin' straight. Maybe this ain't even real. Some weird dream or hallucination from dehydration. Or maybe he just needs to sleep on it so he’d be more lucid when he makes decisions.

Also, he reeks as all high hell like the Sanctuary right now and he'd definitely not say no to a shower. Or even a little splash to clean and get rid of that hellhole's stink from his skin. 

"Ya got any runnin' water in here, boy?"

The question earns him a head tilt that Daryl finds all kinds of adorable before Sheriff does a combination of a whimper-growl and trots to the bedroom door, pawing at the knob until there's a click and it shimmies through the gap. The door opens wide and it waits for Daryl on the other side, letting out that same whimper-growl again like it wants to Daryl to follow.

Daryl pulls himself up to his feet with a wince. He won't be surprised if his entire upper body now looks like a topographical map of bruises and cuts, new and old after er'thing that happened. He takes a steadying breath. Best get this over with. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts about the story so far. Feel free to let me know in the comment section.


	5. Attack Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Daryl and Doggo Rick for ya lovely people.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to AbyssWalker who was very helpful in encouraging me that Rickyl ain't dead at all and the Fandom is still alive. X3 Thank you so much sweetheart. I really appreciate it.

He passes through the door, an arm around his stomach, limping a little. He's been doing a fairly good job of ignoring the throbbing and tenderness in his ribs. But now that the shock of being in direct contact with a giant ass wolf that he thought was intent on eating him has worn off, all the aches and pains are making themselves known and boy does it hurt like a bitch.

"What?" Daryl drawls when Sheriff presses to his side, nudging the hand where he's still holding the can opener in a death grip like it wants to... Daryl scowls, realization dawning. "I can walk fine on my own. Don't need no support. I ain't an invalid."

He gets another headbutt to the wrist and a huff accompanied by an exasperated growl. He gets aimed one helluva stink eye and decides he’s not about to test the beast's patience. "Fine."

He tosses the pathetic excuse for a weapon to a nearby table and curls his fingers through clumps of muddy-red fur. The walk is thankfully short to the bathroom. He lets go of his hold on the wolf's fur and surveys the inside, sees a decent-sized tub and a showerhead.

Now to test if there's still running water available. 

The pressure's nonexistent and there's no hot water but that's more than enough. He didn't need none of that fancy shit anyway.

He glances behind him when he hears the sound of retreating clicks of nails on the floor, seeing the half end of the animal before it rounds a corner. Daryl didn't have to wait long as Sheriff comes just as quickly with the change of clothes in between its mouth and looking at Daryl with them big yellow eyes, like it's telling him to take what was being offered quickly.

"Thanks." Daryl says, a good kind of confused with how smart the wolf is. "What about cha? Ya look like ya took a dip in the mud. Can't be comf'table." The archer merely gets pushed inside and a parting mixture of a bark-growl before it disappears around the corner again. 

He waits at least a minute if it has any intention to come back and what? Join him in a bath? That's all kinds of a bad idea. With a shrug, he slowly moves toward the direction of the living room and sees the wolf sitting by the closed door, guarding the only entrance to the cabin that he could see. He notices the darkness outside. How long was he out? 

His gaze darts back to the animal. Christ. That beast almost acts like its a human being. Definitely more human than the ones he's been in close quarters with recently.

With the assurance that it is safe to get cleaned, Daryl limps back to the bathroom and does quick work of ridding himself of the stench and grime of the Sanctuary, and making sure that he ain't aggravating any of his bruises more than he already has. Once done, Daryl sniffs himself and cringes as he smells the fruity shampoo that was the only thing left by the sink.

Oh well. Better that than smelling like month's old shit. 

Moving to the living room, he sees the door closed but the wolf's nowhere in sight. "Hey, Sheriff?" he calls out, voice low.

The front door swings open and in comes the wolf, no longer looking like it rolled around in the mud. It's thick coat is now gray with specs of white and is sticking up in all directions.

It's so cute and adorable as fuck. _ Calm down, Dixon. _

“Didja take a swim in a lake somewhere?" Daryl asks as Sheriff sniffs the air and turns its head to look at the archer. Daryl has just enough time to clamp his mouth and fight off another yelp when the wolf rushes to him and noses into his crotch again and just... kept sniffing. "Woah, woah easy. Christ. You gotta stop doing that shit. That ain't right. Hey, pull away!"

It growls angrily and Daryl worryingly thinks he's going to finally be wolf food. He manages to push it off his junk and the animal lets out a pathetic, wounded whimper. There's what feels like a lifetime's worth of a staredown between the two that really only lasts for half a minute before the wolf concedes and licks him in the face affectionately as if in apology.

"Yeah, ya should be sorry." Daryl says after a beat, hands coming up to cup the beast's dumb big face, blue-grey and yellow gazes locking. Daryl knows he's getting attached. That’s why ya don’t name things. It builds connections. He should not have bothered looking for a name. Just kept calling it wolf or dog or something. He just knows it'll already hurt like fuck when the time comes that he'll have to put it down. "I ain't mad. S'just weird. You can stop pouting now."

Daryl goes back to the bedroom and resumes to empty the other canned goods for dinner. He takes his sweet time with the peanut butter and jelly. More than once, he's offered Sheriff food but the wolf refuses, only nudges Daryl's hand back to himself so he can resume eating.

Once he's had his fill, Daryl ventures outside with the wolf dogging each step. Sheriff keeps prodding him with his snout to get back in the cabin. Daryl ignores its mother henning, surprised that he’s not growling angrily by the blatant brush-off. He didn't have to be out in the dark for long though. He intended to set up a parameter but the cabin’s already surrounded by wires and cans serving to trap and prevent walkers from wandering inside. 

"Didja set that up?" Daryl asks the beast beside him which had taken the liberty to place its head on top of his shoulder, with eyes that seem to glow as it glares into the darkness looking for any possible threats. Daryl lets the thought go. It's smart. But it can't be that smart.

Later, Daryl pulls the bedsheets that earlier felt like it was gonna eat him alive after so long lying down on a cold, hard cement. He opts for throwing them on the floor to settle in for the night.

Sheriff is by the bedroom door, looking to be taking his guard duty very seriously. The wolf watches Daryl like it hates the miniscule space separating them but was not willing to move. It takes about twenty minutes of staring that Daryl finally pulls himself up to sitting and sighs. 

After all, he recalls waking up just a few hours ago literally surrounded by fur and warmth. Mind made up, he picks up his makeshift bed and ambles toward the door, before dropping the covers by Sheriff's side. Wolves are pack animals. Now that it knows what it feels like to sleep next to another warm body after so long, it prolly has trouble sleeping without one.

"Scoot." Daryl tells the animal and with just the barest amount of hesitation, he rests his back against its large bulk, head propped near its strong neck. There's a bit of shuffling and twisting as Sheriff tries to get to a comfortable position. It ends up curling its body around Daryl so the archer's surrounded by all sides with generous amounts of fur and a calming warmth.

"G'night, Sheriff." Daryl says and gets a lick and a soft whimper in reply. Cocooned in the feeling of safety, like nothing can hurt him anymore is how Daryl finally succumbs to sleep.

* * *

Daryl wakes up in the morning to the sensation of an arm resting across his stomach and something hard insistently poking against the back of his upper thigh.

Eyes flying open in panic, his hand automatically grabs for a crossbow that ain't there. He goes for his boot next for a knife that's just nonexistent. Shooting up to his feet, he turns to see who the fucker is that managed to creep on him in the night. Daryl's brain screeches to a halt, shock and confusion bludgeoning him in the head as he takes in the naked sight in front of him. 

Daryl stares transfixed, watches in muted disbelief as deep-seated eyelids flutter open to the shade of amber that's been his companion the night before. Yellow shimmers and makes way to striking blues as gorgeous as the Georgia skies that he's loved for a long time.

"R-Rick?" Daryl chokes out, wide eyes roving from that painfully familiar face, down to those full lips breaking into a smile that just about melts his insides. His gaze falls to the man’s chest, to the chain-link necklace that hangs loosely belonging to the wolf that saved his life. 

What the fuck? No. What the actual fuck?

Rick, or is it Sheriff? Daryl is so confused, responds to the name by crawling, _ Jesus he’s crawling _, as if he’s forgotten to walk like a human. He’s in Daryl’s space in a second and Daryl forgets to breathe when all of that warm skin is plastered against him and Rick starts purring. 

This has got to be a dream, Daryl rationalizes. Because a world where Rick is laid stark naked next to him and wants him back, and_ sweet mother of a possum, _ grinding against him, can only ever happen in the safety of his subconscious. There ain’t no way this is actually happening.

The sound of the cans clanking outside and hushed arguing voices has Daryl freezing in place.

_ “Idiot. You want to bring all the walkers in the damned area?” _

Head whipping to the side, Daryl is instantly on guard, muscles tensing and poised for a fight. He glances back at Rick and blinks. Rick’s gone. Of course he is. There’s only Sheriff as it should be, ears flat against his head and growling low towards the direction of the noise. Daryl refuses to feel disappointed that he apparently just hallucinated Rick with him after all. 

Daryl places a finger to his lips in the universal human silence gesture. Sheriff regards him for a moment and nods. It makes him smile. _ That _is not going to get old anytime soon.

Quick on his feet, he goes over by the window and slowly opens the blinds a tiny fraction.

_ “I just don’t see why we have to find the asshole’s body. How do we even know if there’s anything left to find?” _

Though Daryl’s time was spent largely in isolation, he’s seen that face in the Sanctuary once or twice. Jake something. He’s only seeing two Saviors, but knows the they at least come in tens when outside. If they think he’s dead. Good. He just hafta make sure he don't get spotted.

_ “We don’t. Ya heard what Negan said. He’s not going to let us fight that beast. If there’s nothing left of Daryl, we can just bring some Roamer that would pass for Daryl and the stupid Alexandrians can go on a suicide mission for revenge or some shit.” _

_ “Ya really think they’ll do that for that stupid hick?” _

_ “Are you kidding me? Grimes looked ready to murder Negan when he pointed that gun on Daryl’s head when we was taking them weapons. They close as brothers or so I heard.” _

_ “Are you both quite done gossiping like little old ladies?” _ A third person appears. A woman this time. _ ”One of the boys found something a few meters up ahead.” _

_ “The redneck?” _Jake-whatever asks.

_ “Looks to be. We confirmed the prison jumpsuit he was wearing. It’s covered in blood and littered in bite marks. There’s only an arm and half of a leg left attached to it.” _

_ “Man, I almost feel bad for the guy. It’s one thing to get bit, but to actually get eaten by a wild animal. That ain’t right. There’s a hierarchy in the food chain for a reason.” _

There’s a collective shudder. Daryl is confused about conversation. They got a hold of the stinking jumpsuit? How was that possible when he still has it in the bedroom? Daryl glances behind him, eyes widening when he finds Sheriff missing. He didn’t even hear him move. 

MInutely, he checks the floor where he was sure he dropped the damned sorry excuse for clothing but finds nothing. There’s a thud behind the door. Daryl rushes forward, perplexed when he gives a push and the door ain’t budging. What in a monkey's ass?

He goes back to the window, feeling a sick sense of anticipation as he watches. The Saviors most likely heard the noise and are looking about them, alert. Daryl almost wants to warn them of what's coming, but after what he'd gone through in the Sanctuary and what they did to his family, he finds that he don’t actually give a shit what happens to these people.

‘Specially after hearing what Negan intended to do with his fake corpse.

_ “Come on. We got what we need. Let’s go before that beast comes across us.” _The guy with the messy beard hisses, looking clearly spooked. If he was with the convoy that Sheriff attacked, and Daryl’s pretty sure he was, and lived to tell the tale, he has every reason to be afraid.

_ “I still don’t get what got you guys so shook up. It’s just a dumb animal.” _

_ “You weren’t there Jared.” _ Ah, so that is the asshole’s name. _ “You didn’t see it dodge bullets like the fucking Matrix man.” _

_ “Psh, you’re all just a bunch of pansies. If I ever saw that-” _

_ “Jared! Behind you!” _

Daryl watches in vindictive glee when Sheriff lunges behind the Savior named Jared and closes his jaws over his head and almost half of his upper body. Panicked yells and screams erupt again, sounding almost music to his ears as Sheriff shakes the lower half of the body loose and outright starts chewing the not-dearly departed Jared in front of his group.

He has a second’s worth of fear shoot through him when the Saviors aim their guns and start firing. He didn’t see much of Sheriff’s kills before but seeing him now in all his glory as a predator, Daryl thanks all his lucky stars that the wolf took a liking to him.

It’s over and done with in less than a minute. Most of the Saviors fled with their tails between their legs. Though bullets clearly has an effect on Sheriff, he didn’t slow down enough for any of the hits to really decrease his efficiency. It looked like he was playing with his food.

The three bloodied Saviors left on the ground trying to valiantly drag themselves away from the wolf simply gets stomped on the head, skulls caving in from the force of the impact. Now that Daryl’s actually watching, Sheriff as a matter of fact don’t _ eat _ his prey. He spits back out any body part he’s got a good chew on as if remembering that he’s not supposed to be eating humans. Some left over sentiment maybe when he’d been in the circus?

Sheriff disappears out of view. Daryl waits for what feels like an hour when he finally hears the front door open and soft nail clicks resound on the floorboards. He’s been trying to push against the door, hoping whatever is blocking the way would move, but his efforts didn’t do shit. Not at all surprising considering the tender state of his ribs and shoulders. 

And so he waited, trying to make sense of Sheriff’s actions. The damned wolf deliberately locked him up, as if it knew that the humans nearby were a danger to Daryl.

Daryl's not the type to hallucinate. Not even when beaten into a pulp and starved for days. Maybe severe dehydration could do that to him. But not after a good night’s rest and a filling meal. Hallucinating Rick and Sheriff being one and the same seem too far-fetched. 

Unless. Daryl knows it’s a stupid idea. But he can’t shake off the feeling that Sheriff really did understand every word that came out of his mouth. He reacted to Rick’s name, to Carl and Judith. He picked clothes for Daryl and made him take a bath. He’s also pretty sure it was Sheriff who planted his jumpsuit a ways off the cabin and made it look like Daryl’s dead. He kept scenting him too since waking up. Don’t wolves only do that to ones they consider pack?

There’s a thud, the sound of something heavy dragging across the floor and then the bedroom door swings open. Daryl shoots up from his perch on the mattress and stands by the entrance across Sheriff. They’re almost the same height, with Sheriff, on all fours, prolly a few inches shorter than him. His coat is clean. He’d obviously taken a dip in the lake again.

Daryl looks to the side and sees a mahogany cabinet standing adjacent to the bedroom door. It appears heavy and sturdy and he confirms it the case when he tries to give it a push. Like pushing against a brick wall. He grunts with the effort and gets a lick to the face.

“You’re too smart for an animal, ya know that?” Daryl says and gets a whimper in response as the giant wolf licks him again. He pauses, scrutinizing. “Or are ya really… just an animal?”

The wolf’s ears perk up and it’s tail starts wagging. Daryl’s heart rate speeds up, feeling as if he’s on the verge of something important here. Daryl strokes the wolf between the eyes and Sheriff headbutts against his palm affectionately. Daryl inches closer and rests his face against the wolf’s forehead, arms circling around his neck. There’s none of the fear he previously felt. Eyes closing, he breathes in the sense of safety that washes over him, suddenly confident that Sheriff ain't ever gonna allow him to be put under the Saviors' thumb again. 

He don’t know how it’s possible. The idea is completely bonkers. The last time he’d seen Rick was yesterday when he’d been teary-eyed and helpless by Alexandria’s gates. That was his Rick. The man he loved for so long and would have died for if given half the chance. And yet somehow, the wolf gently rubbing his face against Daryl is Rick Grimes too.

There can’t be two Rick Grimes now, can it?

“Rick.” Daryl mutters with an inhale. He’s pointedly addressing him so there’s no room for misinterpretation. He feels the large body in his hold stiffen, almost as if waiting with bated breath. “I know it’s you. I don’t know how 'tis wus possible. I saw ya yesterday Rick. But yer here in front a' me too. A wolf. Protectin’ and defendin’ me. Nod yer head for me if ya understand?”

He was expecting the affirmation but Daryl still feels wrongfooted when Sheriff nods.

Pulling back from the embrace, Daryl watches in rapt fascination as those sharp eyes begin shifting colors between blue and yellow, forehead furrowed in concentration. Several seconds pass and the wolf begins to look distressed, features switching back and forth between man and beast like it can't make up its mind. Daryl realizes that Rick can't change back to his human form at will. It's taking a lot of effort. Being human don't come naturally to him.

But dear Lord, that is definitely him. What human-like facial features begin to resurface before getting buried in fur and muzzle again definitely resembles Rick.

Sheriff starts whining-whimpering, looking a whole lot of frustrated at his apparent inability to change as Daryl requested. He barks angrily, sharp canines showing and growls. 

The show of aggression don’t startle Daryl anymore. It’s reckless, but he inches closer and attempts to soothe the upset wolf even with those large teeth on display. Because it’s Rick. Maybe not actually _ his _Rick, but Rick all the same and Daryl’s been kind of stupidly and easily forgiving when it comes to the man he loves. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s alright. Ya don’t hafta force yaself.” Daryl tells the wolf, hand too close to the mouth he’d seen first hand snap shut over a couple grown men’s heads. He rubs the side of his face, fingers of the other hand stroking near his ears. “Hey, it’s alright, Rick.”

It takes Sheriff, or Rick, a couple of minutes to completely calm down from his worked up state. He looks at the ground as if in resignation before huffing heavily. He leans against Daryl and attempts to bury his long-furry face against his shoulder.

“There. I gotcha. Don’t worry. I’m sure it'll come to ya soon enough.” Like it did that morning. Daryl absolutely does not blush at the reminder of a naked Rick Grimes clinging onto him, and adds when the wolf pulls back and gives him a questioning look. “I don’t know what happened, Sheriff. But I’m guessin’ yer not s'possed ta have a hard time changin' back ta human form, right?”

Sheriff answers with a vigorous nod and starts doing that low whimper-bark mix again, but stops halfway as if realizing it’s pointless to talk in a language Daryl knows nothing about.

For the sake of avoiding confusion, Daryl quickly makes up his mind to address this Rick Grimes as Sheriff. If he gets used to calling him by his human name and the others hear him - because he’s definitely bringing him along now that he knows it’s Rick - he don’t even know the first thing to say to try and explain hisself. Carol might give him an eyeroll though if she was around, concluding that it’s just his sappy ass that made him name a wild animal after their leader. She’s the only one who knows about them squishy feelings he has for Rick. 

But as for the rest, that’s gonna open up questions that he ain’t got no answers to. Some might come to the same conclusion as Carol, but he’d rather avoid bein' the butt of teasing about what he feels for Rick. Michonne prolly also would not take kindly to the thought.

“I’m not sure if you was aware.” Daryl mutters under his breath as he leads Sheriff back inside the bedroom and he starts looking through the closet to try and find anything useful. “But ya was human when I woke up. So ya can do it, but I think ya just gotta let it be until it happens.”

The surviving Saviors should be back to the Sanctuary soon, and though that one guy said Negan don’t want his men fighting the wolf, he could still send half an armed battalion just to make sure the threat dies. Victory by numbers and all that shit. They have to leave the cabin as soon as possible and cover their tracks once they’re on the move.

Since the dead started walking, Daryl’s learned to accept things as they come. He adapted being around people, stepping up as someone that family can count on and not simply be a failure like his Pa used to always say, gave hisself a chance to actually fall inlove, stupid as it is when people’s lives can end at any time, whether by walker bite or sadistic assholes. 

So really, meeting a Rick Grimes who seem ta be some kind’a supernatural creature? He can roll with that. He did come across a Chupacabra once, and it was the God's honest truth no matter what er'body said, so some kinda shapeshifter wolf ain’t even that shocking all things considered. Though it does have him wondering. If this Rick here exists, did that mean there’s others out there like him too? Some other Daryl and Michonne and Sasha and Carol and everyone who Rick Grimes valued as family?

Although, considerin’ that he wus alone when they met. Maybe. Daryl shakes his head. He ain’t gonna wonder about them depressing things that he actually don’t know shit about.

Picking up a few changes of clothing to his liking, Daryl gets up from his perusal of the closet and turns around, only to be met with Sheriff going for his privates again. He yelps and almost stumbles backward. Christ, now that he knows it’s Rick, he honestly don’t know what to feel about this obsession over his junk. He knows scenting comes naturally to wolves and much like dogs, they always go for the groin, but Rick ain’t even at nose level to his prick.

The wolf lifts its enormous head, an almost heartbroken expression on its face after it nuzzles Daryl’s stomach as if searching for something and finding none. He stays still for a moment, looking to be trying to come to terms with whatever it is that’s got him so mopey-eyed. Then with a sigh and a head tilt, he turns and begins pushing the bed towards the wall.

“What’chu doing?” Daryl asks as he walks closer to the bed. He looks down, eyes widening when Sheriff paws at the carpet which reveals a trap door. He'd taken a quick scan of the place the night before and realized it was a cabin that belonged to a couple of hunters. A secret trap door like that can only mean two things.

Sheriff moves to the side and Daryl is on all fours in a heartbeat, pulling on the handle and yanking the door upward, wincing a little in his haste. Damn ribs. Regardless, he quickly pokes his head into the entrance, a wide grin spreading across his face as he surveys what's inside. He slaps his hand on the floor and leans back. He almost throws himself at the wolf in his excitement. 

Daryl can't believe his luck. When all hope seems lost, there really is a light at the end of the damned tunnel. Their lack of firepower in Alexandria is about ta change.

Sheriff just fuckin’ found a gun room full of shit they’re gonna need ta fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously things are gonna go different than it did in the show. It already has with this wolf sized Rick Grimes wrecking havoc to Negan's nerves and literally biting Saviors heads off. Lol. Please let me know what you like about the story so far. X3 I would love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> Til next update!
> 
> Next up: Daryl in the Kingdom. Shiva and Wolf Rick meet and more. 😊


	6. On The Way To The Kingdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I promised a Shifter!Rick and Shiva meeting in this chapter and Daryl already in the Kingdom, but Rick demanded screentime for his feelings and I could not say no. Dx
> 
> Promise we'll get to see that Wolf Rick and Shiva scene in the next chapter :) But for now, here's chapter six. Enjoy.
> 
> PS. I was not supposed to post this yet because my back pretty much has been trying to kill me for the most part of the day. Sitting for long periods wrecks havoc on my spine. I'm thankful the pain lessened by afternoon and I could get the chapter done and posted :)

Daryl smelled wrong, and not just in the way that he can't smell no trace of their children on him. There's none of the mate scent which he wore like a second skin. Rick had searched for that particular intoxicating mated smell, much to Daryl's comical yelps but found nothing.

Rick tried to make sense of it. Maybe, the problem really was his sense of smell. But how did he explain Daryl not knowing his wolf form? He’d been wandering for a long time, looked worse for wear, but he doubted he changed that much for Daryl, if he really was _ his _ Daryl, unable to tell that he was Rick. His alpha. His mate. The father of his children.

And that there was a most troubling thought. Daryl had been pregnant when he left. He could have given birth in the time of their separation sure - but this Daryl only mentioned Carl and Judith. Not Riley nor Dylan. He also talked about Rick in the third person.

As if there was another Rick Grimes out there that he didn’t know none about.

Some time in the night as he watched the hunter sleep, after much rumination, Rick came to the conclusion that he was in an alternate universe just like in the comics Carl read. Better that than the alternative of losing his mind. Besides, despite the apocalypse, Rick still had cop in his blood. No matter how ridiculous something seemed, he'd been trained to follow where the evidence leads. 

He’d been keeping count. The uninhabited Arcadia, the Messiah-walker, the absence of everyone he ever knew in that walker-infested town. Meeting someone who looked and smelled like Daryl, but none of the scent that made him mate and pack. Negan was still alive. Then there was Dwight, curiously scarred-face, who looked to be a mere lackey within the Savior numbers. Not as the leader of the Sanctuary that Rick appointed him to be when they’d taken over.

Everything that’s happened so far pointed to an impossible but only logical conclusion.

With this new reality, Rick went to work in the middle of the night. Going by the events that he witnessed, he deduced that he needed to erase Daryl from the Saviors' radar fast. 

He might not be _ his _Daryl, but he’s still some version of Daryl, and there was not a force in this godforsaken planet that could make Rick look the other way when Daryl Dixon needed help.

And help he did. While Daryl slept, Rick planted the grime-stained jumpsuit a distance away from the cabin, complete with freshly torn limbs he picked from the road he attacked earlier. It was lucky he found the deer and soaked the jumpsuit on the bloody puddle after his kill. He’d taken the carcass back to the cabin, and cuddled up with Daryl for the rest of the night. 

He woke up to beautiful blue-grey eyes, but then he heard the noises, stealing his attention away from the hunter. Nose in the air, he sniffed familiar offending smells, gums peeling back at the potential danger. As he growled, Daryl put up his hand in the universal gesture of silence. Rick watched him for a moment and nodded his consent.

As he watched Daryl open the blinds, reality came crashing back and Rick had to force himself to not topple over from the sudden pain over his heart. He’s still not with his pack, still can't feel his mate, but he’s got his Daryl’s counterpart. And if what he realized last night turned out to be true, then there was the possibility of some other version of his pack also existing in this world.

He’d rather be with his own family, his own damned world, but he didn’t know the first thing to do. Maybe he did, now that he had the idea. He could go back to the accident site and try to find a way back home there. If Rick was lost in another damn universe, then that meant his family was still where they should be. Though probably going out of their minds trying to find him. 

Rick shook his head in an attempt to clear the crippling thought. He needed to deal with the threat first. He could try to figure out his feelings and plan the road to home at a later time. He locked Daryl in the bedroom by pushing a cabinet against the door and fled outside.

Rick pounced on the obnoxious, spiteful asshole, closest to him. Chaos followed after, but Rick made quick work of the Saviors. Several more emerged from the trees, drawn by the sound of gunfire but quickly turned tail after seeing Rick standing in the center of the carnage.

He'd killed five in a single bite and finished off three incapacitated and bleeding on the ground.

When he'd gone back, Daryl voiced his suspicion as to Rick's identity. It was a normal reaction, considering he hadn't been trying to act like a simple animal. Rick tried to change back, but the wolf in his blood was too much on the surface to give way to his human side. It irritated Rick, but Daryl comforted him, said he was human when he woke up. 

Being human meant naked. Daryl most likely had gotten an eyeful. The thought was amusing as it was sad, because Daryl clearly loved this other Rick Grimes, but judging by the longing and hurt that sometimes flashed in those beautiful eyes, the feelings were not reciprocated. Seeing and having Rick so close must have probably been a mindfuck to the hunter.

Rick was back in Daryl's space, taking a lungful of his scent before his brain could catch up with his body. He missed his hunter. He might not smell like mate, but at the core of him, he was still Daryl. Rick's sharp gaze zeroed in on the flat planes of the other man's stomach and sighed heavily. Rick hoped that his disappearance didn't cause complications for Daryl and the baby. 

Rick was without his mate and this Daryl didn't have Rick Grimes in all the ways he wanted him. He couldn’t imagine not having Daryl in his life as the other half of his soul. If the Rick Grimes of this world was anything like him at all, not having feelings for Daryl Dixon seemed impossible.

Then again, his Daryl had confessed nearly a decade ago how he didn't think Rick ever wanted anything to do with him. His dear darling mate was pretty big on thinking he wasn't good enough for anybody. Rick was sure the other Grimes felt something for the other Daryl and if only he knew about what the other man felt, he'd be on the hunter so fast before Rick could even say congratulations.

As much as he would like this Daryl to always be with him for the foreseeable future, Rick knew he needed to return him to his own pack. To be with his own Rick. Maybe he could even help in setting those two up. Well, there was a thought that definitely needing more planning.

_ Ya playin' matchmaker now, Rick? _He could almost hear Daryl's voice in his mind. God did he miss him.

* * *

"What'chu doin'?" Dixon (as Rick's decided to call him) asks as he walks towards the bed and begins pushing the furniture to the side. When he'd first come across the cabin, he'd sniffed out gunpowder, ammo and guns as he ransacked the house. He didn't think much of it then, but now that he's a hundred percent sure that Daryl was not in fact _ his _Daryl, that he was just a normal human with no accelerated healing or fangs or claws to defend himself with, Rick just found a use for those guns.

The absolutely wide grin that Dixon sends his way as he nearly topples them both over when he tackled Rick nearly blinds him. That was definitely a great step in the right direction.

"We don't got guns back in Alexandria no more." Would that be the same Alexandria Safe Zone that Deanna often talked wistfully about? Dixon pulls back from the hug, fingers stroking over the side of his furred face. He looks alive for the first time since he'd rescued him. "The Saviors took all'a them. We wus like sittin' ducks. But wit'dis haul ya got here? Not anymore we ain't."

Seriously, the more shit he hears about what these Saviors has apparently done to Dixon and his family makes Rick all the more eager to sink his teeth onto their collective necks.

Rick licks him in the face and lets out a single happy low bark when Dixon chuckles and plants a wet one on the center of his forehead. "I owe ya, Sheriff." he says then pauses when Rick's ears perk up and he looks to the window. He can hear walkers shuffling their way. He tells Daryl as much. Or tries to. Rick pulls himself up to his hind paws and tries to mimic a walker gait. Dixon looks more concerned about the sudden large height difference though. He stands back up and retreats a few steps from where Rick’s acting like an imbecile. "Uuhh, what are ya-." 

Rick huffs and glares at him. He tries to mimic a walker growl along with the gait. He feels ridiculous as Dixon watches until his eyes light up in understanding. "Right. Walkers. We gotta be quick and we ain't leavin' these guns here. We gotta find a safe place where we can put them."

Rick snorts and flops back down on all fours. Finally.

Dixon pulls a big blanket and shimmies his way into the entrance. It's one of those moments where Rick hates his large bulk in wolf form. Such an inconvenience when he needs to get into small spaces. So he watches on guard instead, face on the floor and whining as Dixon does his thang. Rick sees that he didn't get everything displayed on the walls. There's a crossbow though and Dixon goes for it like a magnet. There’s some knives too that he pockets on different parts of his person. It's not possible to carry all the gun between the two of them. Maybe they could come back for the rest of the loot after he's got Dixon reunited with his family.

Dixon squints up at him once he's done making his selection of the firearms. "Sheriff, ya got a rope or somethin' stronger I can tie this thing with?"

It would be a waste for those guns to drop on the way if they didn't have the sack tied tighter than Abraham's ass. Rick searches for some rope and finds it easily enough in one of the cabinets under the kitchen sink. Rick tugs at the bundle with his teeth and trots back to the bedroom where he tosses the rope to Dixon's outstretched hand.

“Are ya absolutely sure?” Dixon asks him once everything’s tied up and fastened. He’s on his belly, flat on all floors waiting for the archer to hop on his back where the sack of guns are already sitting securely. Dixon asking him that question now is just wasting time.

Rick huffs and growls low, teeth nipping at the front of his denim jacket and gestures again for him to hop on. He’s not about to make Dixon walk when he is more than capable of carrying his weight and walkers waited outside. Though maybe he couldn’t really fault Dixon for having second thoughts of riding him like a damned horse._ I ain’t gonna drop you. Come on darling, just trust me. _ Rick tries to convey through his eyes what he can’t with his words. 

Finally, Dixon comes to a decision and gingerly balances himself on Rick’s back.

“Woah. Easy easy.” Dixon inhales sharply, fingers holding onto the chain-link necklace around Rick’s neck with a vice-like grip when he picks himself up off the floor. Rick looks back at Dixon, tongue lolling out and has to suppress an eyeroll at the hunter’s skittishness.

“I ne’er done this before.” Dixon mutters, sounding just mildly offended. Rick recalls all the times his children or any of Arcadia’s children had loved riding the pack on the few occasions that they openly mingled with the rest of their citizens. He pushes the thought aside and watches Dixon pull a gorgeous machete from his hip. He tests it with a few swings before nodding at Rick.

The walkers outside the cabin’s already stinking up the place and Rick wanted out of there like thirty minutes ago. He glances one more time to make sure Dixon’s ready like they planned. With Rick’s incapacity for speech, Dixon was forced to do most of the talking and all Rick had to do was either nod or shake his head if he agreed or not with what the hunter was proposing.

Rick actually didn’t agree to the plan. He would have preferred for Dixon to simply hold on along his back and avoid any walkers from taking a bite out of him. Dixon was not having any of it though. Didn’t trust Rick enough that he could get them out safely with the herd already surrounding the cabin. Dixon wanted to hack and slash as much of the walkers as he could so Rick could focus on navigating their way out without getting overwhelmed.

Rick could navigate and get rid of the walkers in the same breath just fine, but he didn’t want to argue with the hunter. They could have swept the area first and got rid of the herd but they were working on a time limit and it was going to take too damn long before they could even dream of leaving.

He’s just gonna have to trust Dixon to hold on tight enough as they make a run for it.

“Ready when you are, Sheriff.” Dixon tells him as they survey the cabin’s immediate vicinity from the second floor bedroom window. There looks to be already over a couple hundred walkers all clamoring for a tasty treat and more were coming out from behind the trees. Rick’s gotta make sure the first leap would give them good enough of a starting distance for escape.

Rick barks in the affirmative, takes a few steps back, rushes to the window and jumps. 

* * *

**Alexandrians and Jesus: On the way to the Kingdom**

“... Rick... okay… can...hear… Rick?!”

Something lands on his cheek and the sting of the hit has Rick coming back to awareness with a startled gasp. He looks up and Michonne’s worried gaze practically slices him in two. She has her hands around his shoulders like she’s been shaking him. “Are you back with us, Rick?”

Rick’s mouth open and close. He cannot find his voice. It feels like if he so much as utters a single word, he’s going to end up screaming and never stop. He’s not back with them. No, not entirely. Not after what happened to Daryl. It feels like Lori all over again.

Daryl’s fuckin’ eaten by some mutated wild animal. He’s dead. Rick didn’t think it possible until it was too late. If there was one person who Rick counted on to always recover from whatever shit they got going for them, it was Daryl. Even when he’d been in Negan’s hands, Rick never lost that small ray of hope to have him back, because as long as Daryl was alive, he would find his way out of whatever shithole and come back to Rick. But he ain’t doing none of that now.

Spencer’s dead. Olivia’s dead. And Eugene was taken to the Sanctuary because of one damned bullet. All losses that though threatened what little control Rick had over his sanity, were still losses that he could deal with. Until Negan told him about Daryl and the wolf problem. 

Even then, he didn’t actually believe him. Negan liked his mind games and Rick always regarded whatever came out of his mouth to be bullshit half the time. But then Jesus took the radio and they all fuckin’ listened to the Saviors’ conversation about finding Daryl, what’s left of him, before growls, screams and gunfire erupted from the walkie-talkie and Rick forgot how it was to breathe.

“Get a grip, Rick. You have to move past this. We’re on the way to meeting the leader of the Kingdom and we can’t have you breaking down. Daryl won’t want you to. If anything, we need you now more than ever. Don’t let Daryl’s death be for nothing.”

“Michonne.” Rick tries, before his throat closes up and his eyes water again. He must look pathetic to the rest of them. To his son. God, what must Carl think of him? But there was no stopping his wounded cries. Michonne embraces him and Rick clings to her like a lifeline.

Even before they became a couple, Michonne knew about his feelings for Daryl. They used to talk about it, about Rick’s plans of confessing after Terminus, but then Alexandria happened and Daryl began drifting away from the group. He was no longer there to listen to Rick’s fears of leading, giving him advice, or telling him that he always had his back. Especially when he was appointed as a recruiter alongside Aaron. Seeing him became rare and the few times they were in the same space, Rick felt like there was suddenly a wall separating them.

Trying to bury his feelings for the hunter didn’t happen overnight. But Michonne was always there and it just felt simpler, easier to love her instead. He’s not in love with her, don’t think he’ll ever be in love with anyone other than Daryl, just like how she’s never been in love with anyone as she did Andre’s father. But he respected and loved her enough to try and make them work.

He thought he could live by simply watching Daryl from a distance. As long as he was in Rick’s line of sight he’d be content. He'd live with the reality that he was never gonna know the taste of his lips, or the feel of his skin on his fingertips other than the occasional handshake or taps on the shoulder they sometimes gave each other and so much more. But then Glenn and Abraham were killed, brutally taken away from their other halves and Rick realized with stark clarity how he couldn’t just be content. 

He needed Daryl to know even if he got rejected. Rick refused to die before Daryl knew. He needed to at least try, to not have any regrets. But Negan took Daryl away, doing god knows what and he feared for the worst. But then he saw him again, looking beaten up and wearing that godawful jumpsuit, but at least alive. 

He’d tried to bargain for Daryl’s freedom, Rick was willing to do anything to get him back. But Daryl caught his eye, pleading him to not do anything stupid. Knowing Daryl, he blamed himself for Glenn’s death and he didn’t want anyone in Alexandria, in their family meeting an abrupt death for him again. Rick hated the feeling, helpless and desperate as he watched the jeep roll out of Alexandria’s gates. Even so, he continued to hope. Until now.

Rick was ready to face the Kingdom’s leader, but not with the state he's in. He’s nowhere as clear-headed when they began their journey from Hilltop. But Michonne has a point. He can’t wait until he feels in control. It’s not happening within the next forty-eight hours or at least a fucking couple of months. Rick has to make his plea today. Then maybe they can, if not fight against the Saviors, at least hunt the wolf that killed Daryl. Surely the Kingdom could lend a hand against a common threat.

“Michonne. Rick I think you need to take a look at this.” Tara calls out from outside the car. Rick realizes then that it’s only him and Michonne left inside. He quickly searches for his son and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees him leaning against the left backseat window. 

Michonne pulls back from their embrace and takes the binoculars Tara hands over. Rick watches as she uses it toward the direction Tara is pointing.

“What in the hell?” Michonne gasps, and Rick tries to see into the distance but can’t see anything other than trees and more trees and some walkers. He pulls himself up from his position on the seat so he could get closer to Michonne. He looks around for a while. It seemed that Rosita, Paul and Sasha were putting down wandering walkers nearby while Rick was having his meltdown. 

“Michonne?” Rick asks her, voice cracking. “What do you see?”

Michonne looks back at him, tears in her eyes. She looks gobsmacked, bewildered, but her lips form into the big smile that he's learned to love that shows her perfect set of teeth. “It’s Daryl.” she tells him, sounding choked up as she hands him the binoculars. Rick’s breath stutters out of him in a rush as he hastily takes the binoculars and peers into the distance. Heart in his throat, it takes Rick five seconds to see movement behind the trees, jaw dropping at what he meets his eyes.

“I don’t know how. But that’s him, Rick.” Michonne says in relief and shocked surprise. 

“H-how…” She has every reason to be shocked. Rick can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It was only mere minutes ago when he began to mourn Daryl. But against all odds, Daryl was out there now, on the back of the largest wolf Rick had ever seen in his life. Looking almost as tall as a horse and twice as heavy. Rick suddenly has so many questions, but he shakes his head. 

It doesn’t matter how Daryl managed to tame a wild animal. He’s sure they were going to receive an explanation soon enough. What matters is he’s alive and will soon be back where Rick can finally touch and kiss him even if he’d get socked in the face for what he’s about to do. 

“We make for Daryl.” He calls out to the others, voice losing its hoarseness now that his heart feels like it’s beating again. Rick vaguely notices Michonne, Carl and Tara hugging behind him and goes to the driver’s seat before Paul could. “You can’t take the wheel this time, Jesus.”

Paul smiles, hands up in easy surrender. “Woah. Okay, Rick. No need to growl at me.”

Did he just growl? That was admittedly weird. Rick blinks at the Hilltop resident and lessens the aggression in his stance. He can’t help it though. It’s Daryl and Rick’s always been a little bit more intense when it comes to the hunter’s continued safety. Second to his children. 

“Dad. You okay?” Carl asks him from the backseat. Rick looks at the rear view mirror, grip tight on the steering wheel as he accelerates, Michonne keeping a steady lookout for Daryl at the other side of the clearing. It’s been a while since he’s had reason to truly smile.

“I am now.” Rick tells his son, facial muscles twitching from unuse.

“Rick he made a turn. We can meet him up…” Michonne trails off, then points. “There.” Rick nods and steps on the pedal at Michonne’s egging. She whistles, impressed. “Damn, that wolf is fast.”

It really, really is. Rick’s almost scared they’re not going to make it when it suddenly slows down and stops.

“Uh guys, that’s actually the direction to the Kingdom outskirts.” Paul says from the backseat, squished between Rosita and Sasha. He inches forward and adds. “That’s the Kingdom’s backdoor. Very few people outside its citizens know it exists. And by few, I mean me.”

Rick side-eyes him and keeps on driving. “What are you saying?”

“Look, look, look. The dire wolf’s nose is on the ground. It’s following a scent.”

“Yeah? And?” Rick fails to see the point.

"Why is it following a scent? Unless it's being guided by Daryl. But I don't think he's ever been to the Kingdom before let alone know it's backdoor route. Most likely reason then is the wolf actually living around the area and no one's stumbled on it before." Until Daryl.

“But wait, dire wolf? I thought that species of wolf went instinct?” Carl interjects.

Paul shrugs and peers at Carl through the rear view mirror. “I mean yeah. I don’t actually know how big dire wolves are. But how do you explain something that big running around?”

“Evolution?” Tara gives in her two cents, then amends her statement. “Oh, oh, oh. Circus! A freak of nature maybe. Drank something it’s not supposed to and became a wolf on steroids.”

“I’m more concerned if it’s really alone or has a pack out there looking for it.” Sasha reminds them of the way that type of animal lived, obvious worry in her voice. She looks around as if preparing for a pack of wolves to suddenly come pouncing out of the trees.

Rick wonders the same thing. They all heard what it did to the Saviors. It might have taken a liking to Daryl but they can’t say the same for the rest of them. It sounded like it had a serious vendetta against the Saviors it killed. Plus, Daryl’s always been more at home in the woods. Taming a wild animal doesn’t actually seem all that surprising now considering his affinity with nature.

“Michonne, give me those binoculars quick!” Rosita suddenly pipes up, and Michonne gives the item to the Latina without a second’s thought. Rick realized too late that Spencer and Rosita were a thang and his death was a clear blow to her so soon after Abraham. She's angry and upset, vengeance in every purse of her lips.

Rick looks to the distance and watches Daryl climb down the wolf’s back. He strokes the thing’s ears, its big dumb face and Rick feels a pang of something in his chest that he can't quite explain. Then he almost gets a heart attack when the wolf’s large maw opens and closes over Daryl’s head. Rick feels the scream rush out of his throat, hears everyone else shout their fears for Daryl's life, expecting blood and brain matter exploding, but then Dary simply laughs, steps away and the wolf licks him enthusiastically.

“Sweet baby Jesus.” Tara exhales shakily.

“I ain’t a baby.”

“Ha ha Paul.”

“What the hell did I just see?” Sasha sounds just as out of breath.

“How does Daryl do it!?” Carl exclaims his disbelief. “When did he become the wolf whisperer?”

“Daryl has a new best friend. Great. Moving on.” Rosita cuts in with her no-nonsense attitude, but her voice betrays her nonchalance. No matter how hardened a person pretends to be, there’s something about a human eaten alive by a wild animal that’s simply traumatizing. Rick didn’t think he’s gonna be able to use his legs yet from what he’d witnessed his beloved hunter almost become. “You people need to stop focusing on Daryl and start looking at the thing the wolf’s got on it’s back.”

“What is it, Rosita?” Michonne asks as Rosita hands back the binoculars and proceeds to shoot his companions with a look that clearly spelled, you’re all idiots. “Wait, are those-”

“Those are weapons.” Rosita confirms, wide grin spreading across her face. “And a lot of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a confession to make. I've been feeling like an absolute failure since reposting the story. Other than a couple of people that comments. (whom I am so grateful for) I'm back to feeling like a huge disappointment (pretty much how I've been feeling for the past five years since the accident. No biggie.) I really hate this tendency to measure my worth as a writer to the amount of reviews I get. Like I look at other stories posted the same time I do. See a good number of reviews and feel like dying inside when I look at mine. It's not healthy. And yet the stupid thoughts keep coming anyway. I gotta get rid of this mindset. Anyone have any advice on the matter?


	7. Not Quite Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late posting to this update guys (and to make up for it I made it a bit longer? XD)  
Anyway, as you all know I've been in and out of rehab while also maintaining a full time shift so everyday is pretty much exhausting for me. Well, two week before, I friggin' slipped and fell in our company bathroom and that caused my already messed up hip to just become even more messed up, and it has been a very trying two weeks on painkillers and more painkillers. (I was high all the time I just didn't have the right mindset to post anything)  
Also, I had a rabies scare because of my mom's rescued stray puppy licking the wound on my feet that I grazed on a mop from that same incident. So my anxiety went through the roof. I thought I was pretty much a goner. But ah, I'm still here so here's an update for y'all.  
Thank you so much for all your love and support! <33  
And thank you again so much for your patience!

With the herd left behind, Rick ran east without a concrete destination in mind. 

Not for the first time he regretted not getting personally involved in talks about the communities south of Arcadia in his world. There's no certain way to know of course if those places would be in the same location in this universe as they did in his. But the knowledge would have still given Rick a general idea of where to go, especially after he found Arcadia absent of his family.

As pack leader, he was tied to all the going ons in Arcadia. Not so much with other communities or other survivors. Rarely did he venture out of their walls and it's always been limited to a fifty mile radius when it was his turn for supply runs. Something about the alpha always being close to home. Arcadia was where pack was and Rick always felt wrong about leaving.

He was Arcadia's leader but he didn’t need to be the last say for decisions like clearing Alexandria of it's walker infestation or attend council meetings for plans on bringing the other communities from the ground up after the Whisperer attacks. Even overseeing the Sanctuary and it's still existing outposts, were always more or less appointed to the trusted humans in their group. Maggie oversaw negotiations. Glenn always made sure her orders were carried out.

While some couples in their pack, like Ana and Sam, Bob and Sasha and Abraham and Rosita didn't mind coming with the non-Arcadians when they went out to check the state of their fallen communities, most of Rick's family preferred to stay and protect their own.

If only Rick knew he was going to be separated from his pack in the most improbable way possible, he would have gotten involved more. Still, he might not have the knowledge of locations or a map, but he still has his nose. Now that he’s aware of the situation and the alternate version of his pack, he should be able to scent them soon enough.

Dixon’s been feeding him information about their problem regarding the Saviors without being too specific. But the way he choked over Glenn and Maggie’s names, of Abraham, Rick quickly got the picture. If the Negan of this world is anything like the one who stumbled upon their walls, and the other Rick Grime’s group simply consisted of humans, deaths would be a given. 

Hearing this dreadful news, Rick had to stop walking for a moment, resolutely trying to reign in the need to let out a mournful howl. It wasn't his Maggie or Glenn or Abraham, but it hurt all the same. He thought of his core family, his mate and children getting killed before his eyes and could not suppress the furious growl erupting from his throat. Right then, Rick made up his mind that he was going to help in getting rid of the bastard Negan and his asshole followers any way he could. His first and foremost priority should be returning home. But if Daryl was in this position, he knew his mate would not turn his back on these people either.

Him and Dixon are well away from the paved road. They already came across a hare that the hunter belted to his waist after Rick’s kill. He's hot on the scent of a second hare when an achingly familiar scent shoots up his nose. Much like how he'd reacted to the first time he found Dixon, he's on the scent like lightning. He barks once in warning and then he's off. 

He doesn't know the first thing to expect. Is she anything like Rick's own? As close to Grimes and Dixon as they are to her? Logic dictates that different universes can mean differences in the people he knows. He may not even be anything like this world's Rick Grimes.

But she's in his senses now and after so long living without pack, just like Dixon, Rick can't shake off the sudden overwhelming need to see her just yet.

_ Carol. I'm coming for you sister. _

* * *

"What the hell is the problem with you?" Daryl spits out as soon as Sheriff slows to a stop. He climbs down the wolf's back, fighting off stupid flashbacks of the last time he got dislodged from the back of an animal. "Ya don't do that without a damn warning, Sheriff!" He turns to the wolf and proceeds to throw expletives that he ain't even sure existed in the dictionary. 

Sheriff takes the dressing down like a champ and waits patiently until he’s done, then whimpers and sends Daryl puppy eyes that look so pathetic he can't help but let go of his anger. Daryl sighs and takes clumps of the wolf's fur in both hands as he takes deep breaths. Fine. So he did bark once but that ain't enough of a warning with how fast he suddenly bolted.

Daryl grits his teeth as he strokes Sheriff absently, trying to drown out the thundering in his ears and galloping in his heart. He hates that what time he spent in that prison cell in the Sanctuary managed to bring up bad memories he had buried throughout the years.

"Damn you and your puppy eyes Grimes." Daryl mumbles once he's got his heart rate under control. Sheriff licks him across the face in apology and opens his jaw wide enough to play-bite against his head. Before knowing that Sheriff is some alternate Rick Grimes, the play-biting would have made him run the opposite direction, but after knowing the truth, Daryl sees the gesture for what it is. Wolves tend to play-bite with pack. It's simply a sign of affection. 

Daryl does his best to ignore the fuzzy warm feelings taking root in his chest.

Stifling his laughter, he steps away only to get slobbered on as Sheriff resumes to lick him. "Christ. Fine. Yer forgiven. Stop trying to bathe me with spit man." he chastises good-naturedly. Sheriff listens and stops but starts looking around as if in search of something. "What is it?"

He watches Sheriff trot to the side and pick up a fallen tree's branch. "Ya want ta play fetch?" Daryl asks as soon as Sheriff sidles up beside him. "Seriously?"

For someone who can’t talk, his very expressive facial features more than make up for the lack of words. Daryl gets an eyeroll and a huff before Sheriff starts scribbling on the ground. Daryl stares dubiously until he sees letters begin to form. It takes him a few more seconds to make out the word. When it does, Daryl straightens and shares a look with Sheriff, wide-eyed and a smile stretching across his lips. He pulls him closer and buries his face against generous amounts of fur.

"Thank you." He tells him with a relieved sigh and asks expectantly. "Which way?" Sheriff barks for him to climb back up after a thorough apology all over his neck and leads the way.

* * *

"Y'all saw that, right? That wasn't just me." Tara asks as they watch Daryl climb up the wolf's back after what looked to be an actual conversation over something before sprinting off.

"It looked like the wolf was writing stuff down." Sasha says sounding just as perplexed.

"Last time I checked, wolves were not literate. Or understand human language." Paul points out. 

"You're all focusing on the wrong thing." Rosita grumbles before she turns to their leader, palms out and imploring for him to listen. "Rick. We need those guns."

"Are we following? Dad?" Carl asks.

Michonne places her hand on his forearm. "Rick?" 

Shaken out of his stupor, Rick blinks and looks over his people, blue gaze fixed last on his son. He's silent for a while until, "Of course, we're following." He confirms as he revs up the engine, then adds. "But Carl is stayin' in the car. I don't want you anywhere near that thang."

"But dad!" 

"No buts Carl. I don't care if it looks like Daryl has it under control. It’s still a predator and could attack anyone at any given time. I'm not letting you anywhere near it." He says, tone giving no room for argument. Carl slumps down on his seat and gives a grumbling _ fine _.

“I'm staying in the car too. Accompany Carl.” Tara volunteers. “You know, where it’s safe.”

With the wolf’s instinctual nature to kill, there’s no telling how it would react to new people. Rick can’t blame Tara for being cautious. He can still hear the growls, the sounds of gunfire and screams and flesh getting torn apart whenever he closes his eyes. Rick shudders and sends a silent prayer to any higher power that would hear that the wolf never turns on Daryl.

He doesn’t know how many more scares of Daryl’s death he could take.

They’re all living on borrowed time, Rick knows it. Everyone knows it. It’s been all about survival for years now. Kill or be killed. They lose people all the time. He nearly went crazy when Lori died. He didn’t even love her as strongly as he loved his hunter. It terrifies him to think of the kind of man he would become if he ends up losing his heart. Maybe turn out like Negan.

Rick quickly shakes the thought off. He’s never going to be like that bastard. Because he’s never going to lose Daryl. It’s not realistic. It’s downright stupid optimism. But Rick refuses to think otherwise. He’s going to continue completely trusting in Daryl’s ability to survive.

“Any other takers?” Rick asks the rest of the group. Sasha shakes her head. Rosita rolls her eyes as if Rick’s asking stupid questions. She wants to get her hand on those guns even with a predator near. Paul looks resigned to his fate. He needs to be where Rick’s group is especially with the high probability of getting arrested for trespassing the Kingdom’s backdoor.

He turns to Michonne who smiles at him reassuringly. “I trust Tara with Carl.” she says and gives his hand a squeeze. “You know I’m always going to be on your side, Rick.”

It hits Rick then that he’s going to have to talk with her about Daryl and break off whatever they have. He can’t make a move on Daryl without making it clear that he’s serious about him. He can’t have him thinking he’s some just some kinda alternative. Though he and Michonne have more of a partnership than actual romance, she deserves to know what Rick intends to do first. She’s been nothing but supportive and caring and already acted like a second mother to his children. He loves her enough as any close friends, as a family to not disrespect her like that. 

He squeezes her hand back and sends her an answering smile. “Thank you.”

* * *

Carol was close, her scent strong. She’s on the other side of those copse of trees. Rick was about to close that miniscule distance when Dixon tapped him hard on the back of the neck and hastily told him to stop. He tilted his head, questioning, when Dixon climbed down.

“Yer staying here fer now, Sheriff. We can’t let Carol see ya yet. I hafta tell her first. Gotta make sure it’s safe.” Dixon explains quickly. Carol is right there and he’s nearly vibrating to see her. Rick huffs impatiently and sends the hunter an unimpressed stare. 

Dixon gives him one right back, locking them in a stare-off for a good minute before Dixon cocks his head up as if asking the heavens why it had to be him that got stuck with an obstinate wolf like Rick Grimes. He looks back at Rick, rests his forehead against his and sighs.

His voice is gentle and coaxing when he speaks. “Look. I know ya miss Carol. _ Yer _Carol. But this one ain’t yours. She left Alexandria ’fore the Saviors came. I don’t know what’s happened ta her, but I know she reacts crazy fast to a threat. She’s gonna see ya and shoot.”

Rick huffs even more unimpressed because really, haven’t Dixon seen how bullets don’t really have the intended result of killing him? 

“It’s different when family tries to hurt ya, okay? I ain’t ever gonna wanna watch that.”

Rick frowns. That… ain't really fair. If Dixon puts it that way, he can hardly blame him for wanting to protect him from his own people. Dixon's had time to get to know him, learned to trust him after being saved from enemy hands, but the rest don’t know that. Rick can think of Dixon’s group as family all he wants, but they’re not pack. It’s time he stops confusing his emotions.

Dixon pulls back and rubs that soft spot under his left ear that always pulls a pitiful whine out of him. It seems no matter the universe, Daryl Dixon instinctively knows Rick Grimes' weak spot. “I ain’t gonna be gone fer long. I’ll tell her yer good and then I’ll bring ‘er here okay?”

With a soft huff, Rick whimpers his consent.

“Good boy.” Dixon says as he pets him. Rick enjoys the attention for a while, tongue lolling out happily before he catches himself and pulls away an inch. He sends Dixon a reproachful look that clearly states _ Really? First the stick joke and now this? _

“S’rry.” The human equivalent of his mate ducks his head and smiles sheepishly. “The more time we're together, yer more like an adorable dog than a predator. And have ya seen yerself man? Yer like a giant blanket of fluff.” Rick watches those pale pink lips spread into a familiar smile as blue-grey eyes lighten up. “God. Carl and Lil'Asskicker's gonna love ya."

Rick’s tail wag excitedly at the mention of his children. Or a version of them. Not that it matters. They were still Carl and Judith and just the thought of taking a lungful of their scent again makes him whine with longing. He figures he can be more patient with meeting Carol. He has to be on his best behavior. The last thing he wants is to be considered a threat. Especially to the other Rick Grimes. Rick knows that if he was to be in the other man’s shoes, there is no way he’s going to easily allow something like him within fifty feet of his children.

“Dun’ worry, Sheriff.” Dixon tells him softly, assuring. "I’m gonna figure out a way for ya ta get close ta them. I could talk ta Rick. Try ta convince him yer okay ta be around his kids.”

He nuzzles Dixon’s palm in gratitude before he gives a single low bark. He tilts his head and looks past behind the hunter’s head, gesturing for him to go and meet Carol before she leaves and they miss her completely. As Dixon nods and starts to walk away, Rick sits on his hind legs in a show of complete obedience to the human’s request of staying put.

With Dixon out of sight, Rick keeps his ears peeled for any movement or voices nearby. He can hear Carol and Dixon up ahead, but feels uncomfortable intruding to a reunion that he should have no business of hearing. He spreads his awareness south and detects three walkers groaning and shuffling before the sound of knives meeting skulls prickle into his ears. 

The voice that he next hears has him freezing.

_ “Don’t spread out too much. We don’t know yet where that thang is.” _

Rick’s head whips to the direction of the sound, body going rigid. That’s his voice. The Rick Grimes of this world is only a few meters away and Rick, alone and in his full wolf form without Dixon there to vouch for him, is not how he envisioned their first meeting to go.

Rick’s so focused on the people behind him that he almost misses the cry for help to the east. But once it registers, the voice cause swift flashes of blond curls and a dimpled boyish smile in his mind. He was one of Ezekiel’s men, Benjamin. Amy and the boy had fallen inlove and Rick had no choice but to accept him into the pack. But he went missing the day he was supposed to get the bite. The last image he had of him was of his head erected on a pike alongside hers.

Andrea almost lost herself to grief. Only her Alpha, Michonne was able to bring her back from the brink of feral insanity. Though losing the Alexandrians Aaron and Enid and the Kingdom resident Benjamin was painful, the pain of losing Amy was all the more excruciating.

The horrific reminder of the way they lost her and the memory of Benjamin’s hopeful face as they went to Rick for his blessing and permission as pack Alpha, has his instincts to protect explosively rear itself out in the open almost as fiercely as he did when he first saw Dixon. 

He follows the direction of the voice in a heartbeat. He rushes to Benjamin’s aid and finds him, looking a lot younger than he’s ever seen the boy, sprawled on the ground and trying to fend off four walkers trying to take a chunk out of him. Rick doesn’t think much of anything other than the immediate need to save. He goes to chomp on one walker head after another until they no longer posed a threat. Quickly, Rick steps into Benjamin’s space and assesses him for any bites or scratch marks, too focused on his task that he completely misses the gun.

The sound of the gun going off doesn’t register to Rick until pain explodes in his head and a pained howl erupts out of him. Shit. Did he just get shot point blank? Was that a headshot?

As if the world has suddenly become a sea of red, Rick blearily looks down at the stark terrified pale face beneath him before he feels something wet drip over his nose. Dixon frantically calling out his name sounds like it’s coming from underwater. Rick turns his head to the side, trying to shake off the strange sinking feeling before his legs give out under him. 

_ "What the fuck did you do?” _

_ "I… I didn’t. I was…” _

Rick feels the ground beneath him. He’s on his side and watches Dixon practically choke the boy by his collar as he shakes him angrily. He didn’t save the kid to have Dixon kill him instead. Rick tries to say as much, but all that comes out is one pathetic whine. Dixon lets go of the boy’s collar and falls to his knees beside Rick. His hands hover of him, hunched over and looking so worried and angry at the same time like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Rick hates putting that despairing expression on those beautiful blue-grey eyes.

_ “Sheriff? Sheriff. Come on man, don’t do this ta me. Fuck. Tell me this isn’t gonna kill you!” _

Rick doesn’t know exactly how impenetrable Shifters are in full wolf form and no one in the pack has been stupid enough to stand in the way of a direct hit to the head. Until him apparently. The last time he’d been hit anywhere this painful was a clean shot to the side of the neck. This feels somehow way worse than that. Almost as bad as when he’d been shot in the line of duty and woke up to the end of the world. No matter how much Rick tries, no matter how much he thinks about his family, the pack, his children, his mate, everything is quickly slipping away.

_ “Daryl. What do you need me to do? How can I help?” _

Oh Carol. So good to see her again. But God does she look tired. Rick whimpers and tries to get close to her but can’t even move a single muscle. She reaches out and places a soothing hand by his neck in a sign of trust. He wonders if Dixon told her the truth to his identity. 

Rick whines lowly in gratitude at her soft touch as Dixon keeps on with his heart-wrenching pleadings for him to open his eyes. He didn’t even realize they’ve closed. Rick realizes that he can’t see anymore. There’s only darkness and even the voices are steadily getting quieter.

At his last moment of awareness, something pushes into Rick’s mind that has his heart skipping a beat of its familiarity. It forces him to stay conscious longer, no matter how short-lived to decipher the jumbled thoughts suddenly bombarding his already probably leaking brain.

_ Alpha… alpha… OH God it's really you... don’t die on me… I’m here… Dad! It’s Shiva!_

* * *

  
This ain’t happening. Goddammit. This ain’t how he expected the day to turn out.

Things were finally looking up. He got away from the Saviors. Got a hold of weapons that they could use to fight back, and he even found Carol again. All thanks to Sheriff. He’s been so good to him. Saving him. Nursing him back to health and reuniting him with his family. 

Daryl was beginning to warm up to the idea of Sheriff becoming a permanent fixture in his life. Walkers never stood a chance against him and bullet wounds didn’t last long on his body. His half-singed tail the day before has fully healed. Daryl thought he was not one to be killed so easily. Had dared hope that Sheriff, even if he was some other version of his Rick, and not the actual man he loved, at least he could count on him to be by his side. Always.

He was not supposed to die in the hands of a careless twitchy-fingered snot-nosed brat!

“Daryl. What do you need me to do? How can I help?” Daryl feels her hand on his shoulder before she’s also kneeling beside him next to Sheriff’s large bulk. She reaches out a hand to stroke him on the neck and that alone, that sign of trust, makes Daryl feel less alone in this. Sheriff whimpers and Daryl feels all the breath leave his lungs when amber eyes fall shut.

“Sheriff. No, no, no. Open yer eyes. Yer not gonna die like this. Ya can’t. No goddamit!”

The boy is to the side, gun discarded on the ground and looking no less paler than when Daryl first saw him scramble from under Sheriff before he slumped to the ground. He glares at the kid, pinning him in place like a trapped insect. He has half a mind to storm back into his space for a well-aimed punch or shoot a bolt up his ass, but he’s gotta focus on Sheriff.

Collecting his bearings and refusing to let the panic and the nerves get the best of him, Daryl leans down and listens intently for a heartbeat and almost feels lightheaded in relief when he finds one. It’s slow, but there. Plus the barest rise and fall of his belly. There’s a lot of blood around his head and on the ground. But head wounds tend to look worse than they really are. As long as Sheriff’s breathing, he can heal from this. It’ll take time but he will heal. He’s got to. 

Daryl needs to get him to a safe place. Sheriff can’t stay out of here with the walkers, but between him and Carol, and even with the boy, there was no way they could carry someone as heavy as Sheriff’s dead weight with just the three of them. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to. I thought he was going to eat me!”

“He was saving yer sorry ass, ya dumb fuck.” Daryl spits out at the blubbering teenager and gets a chastisting look from Carol. Despite this, she doesn’t mince her words in telling the boy off for being out in the forest so close to sunset, how he was just looking to get himself or someone else killed. He volunteers to help, and Carol tells him to call for someone called Ezekiel when the roar of what sounds to be an actual fucking tiger reaches Daryl’s ears.

“Oh no it’s Shiva. How did she--”

The rest of his sentence is cut off when an honest-to-god tiger suddenly emerges from the trees and rushes towards them. Carol shoots up to her feet, and the boy Benjamin scramble for his gun. Daryl’s still on his place on the ground beside Sheriff, but quickly grabs for a gun among the ones that had gotten lose from the makeshift sack still tied across the wolf’s back. He turns and aims the gun to the tiger just as it lunges and lands a mere feet away from Daryl, the barrel of the gun aimed directly to it’s whiskered face.

“Daryl. Don’t shoot yet. We don’t know…”

“Carol. What the fuck is this?” 

“It’s Shiva. It’s the Kingdom’s leader’s pet. She’s tame. Or as I was led to believe.”

It looks at Daryl, not at all showing any fear for the presence of the gun, before it tilts its head to the side towards Sheriff’s sprawled form. “You’re not hurting him.” Daryl threatens, forcing the predator to look back at him, gun cocking, teeth gritted and daring it to attack.

The tiger bares its teeth back at him, but then voices suddenly converge to their spot. With his sights still trained on the tiger, he first hears Rosita let out a curse, then Paul calling someone “King Ezekiel” just as voices to the front of him also float in, and he was next hastily exclaiming, “I can explain.”

“Jesus. What business do--” And just like that, the tiger suddenly turns it’s back to Daryl and roars to the people to his front, locked in what appears to be a protective stance. 

“Shiva. What is the matter with you girl?!” The dread-locked guy sounds like he got betrayed.

The tiger roars one more time, then turning to Daryl, and not giving him a chance to react at all, headbutts against him and starts letting out little breathy snorts as it rubs its face against his. Very much in a way that Sheriff has done whenever he felt like getting affectionate with him. 

The gesture is so familiar yet equally surprising that he foolishly lets his guard down. Suddenly, Shiva moves past him and straight to Sheriff’s prone body. He’s about to really fucking shoot when she does the same breathy snort and proceeds to press her forehead against Sheriff’s neck like she’s trying to wake him up. When he doesn’t, she begins letting out a sound that Daryl can instantly tell is equivalent to a cry. The mournful sound squeezes at his heart.

“What in the blazes, I’ve never seen her act that way around anyone. Not even around the King.” A heavy-set man to the dread-locked dude’s right says before coughing into his hand.”Err, pardon me, your majesty.” Then straightening his back, he looks to the boy. “Benjamin?”

“I…. I didn’t… I was…”

“Never you mind, boy. This is within the Kingdom’s property. And I am seeing quite a number of new faces, here. Jesus. I take it they are acquaintances of yours?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Paul answers, actually bowing a little.

Seriously? They’re calling that guy as if he’s some kinda royalty? Daryl calls bullshit. He shoots Carol a look and she shrugs her shoulders at him and sends him a _what are you gonna do _ look. 

“They come from a community not far from here.” Paul continues. “And the man in front of you, the one Shiva seems to have taken a liking to is Daryl Dixon. From the same community. Like minded people as you and I. Their leader, Rick Grimes, who is currently indisposed…”

Daryl turns his head fully and only does he see Rick further to the back, unconscious and shouldered between Michonne and Sasha. What the hell happened ta him? The need to get up and run to his leader is so strong, but he forces hisself to stay put to guard Sheriff.

The tiger Shiva, for some reason seems to know Sheriff. And he looked at Daryl in that too-human way that Sheriff did. She could very well be one of his missing family. But she came with humans that Daryl don’t know nothing about and so he can’t bring himself to fully trust her yet.

More words were exchanged, all about pacifying_ the King _ that they were not a threat. Daryl had to explain about Sheriff, how he was just tryin' ta save Benjamin but the brat shot him out of fear. He’s alive but needs immediate treatment. He’s also tame. He ain’t hurting no one.

Shiva eventually comes to her master’s side after gently headbutting Daryl one last time. She allows herself to be pulled by the chain of a leash and sit obediently by the man’s side.

“We best take this inside the walls of the Kingdom. Night is fast approaching. Since you have all journeyed here from afar and Jesus has vouced for you, you are all welcome to stay the night and I will hear what Rick Grimes has to say first thing in the morn. Are we all agreed?”

‘Yes. That would be greatly appreciated. Thank you, your majesty.” Paul continues to simper. 

With the initial confrontation out of the way, Daryl is helped to his feet by Carol. And is suddenly enveloped into a hug by Rosita. The openness floors Daryl because they’ve never been on good terms since Denise, but now she’s smiling and patting him approvingly on the back. 

“I don’t know how you did it. And I don’t care. But what matter is you’re alive and you even got us guns. Even tamed some kind’a freak of nature of a wolf. Not bad at all, Daryl. Not bad at all.”

He’s still hurting, ribs tender and bruises smarting like a bitch, but he can’t help the small pleased smile from curving onto his lips. His gaze trail towards Rick’s slumped form and the smile drops completely off his face. He touches Carol’s arm and asks her to look after Sheriff for a bit.

“I’ll be here. Don’t worry. Go and get your man.” Carol whispers teasingly and Daryl flushes despite himself, hissing “stop it” under his breath at the woman he treasures most in the world.

“Michonne.” Daryl says as soon as he’s within a foot from them. Sasha’s eyes are glistening as she pulls him into a one-armed hug, followed quickly by Michonne. It feels good to be with family again. But the feeling can’t quite settle in his system going by what he’s seeing.

“What happened ta him?” Daryl asks, trying his hardest to keep his hands to hisself.

“We don’t know.” Michonne says soberly. “We thought you were dead. The news broke Rick. He had a meltdown.” she explains as-a-matter-of-factly while Daryl feels his heart threaten to leap out of his throat. If she noticed Daryl’s breathing speed up at her words, she didn’t show it. 

Why would Rick have a meltdown? Why would his supposed death break Rick? Daryl doesn’t dare hope that he still means so much to their leader after all he’s gone and done to their family. 

“Paul got a hold of the Savior’s radio but then we saw you on the back of that thing.” There’s no question as to who she is referring to. “We followed you. But then there was the sound of the gunshot. Rick crumpled where he stood. We thought he got shot. His hand was on his head but there was no bullet wound or blood or anything. But he looked to be in so much pain, and his eyes, they looked wrong for a few seconds and then he just…. he just passed out.”

Daryl swalllows thickly. Gunshot? That would be the exact same time that Sheriff went down too. Knowing what he does about Sheriff’s true identity, Daryl can’t help but feel anxious about what it could potentially mean for both Rick Grimes. There was a common theme in time travel stories before that ya don’t let yaself meet another you from another time else the universe was gonna explode.

What does it mean then for meeting the alternate version of yaself?

Daryl's brows furrow with all the questions swirling in his head but knows that he ain’t gonna get nowhere tryin’a wrack his brains out for any possible explanation. Right now, what he needs ta do is make sure Sheriff doesn’t die on him and hopefully have a proper reunion with Rick once he’s also up and about.

He can think of the rest later.

  
  


  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear your thoughts on how you think the story is going so far. And ehem a special reveal about someone's identity. *anxiously twists fingers* I already beta'd the story but frankly I still feel very woozy so I might not have caught all the mistakes so feel free to point them out. Thank you :)
> 
> More will be revealed soon.
> 
> Note: Ana and Sam were those young couple in Season 4 that Rick and Carol came across. In the Shifter verse, it was Daryl who came with Carol and his instincts quickly made him aware of the other humans that were near and hiding and basically strong-armed Ana and Sam to come with him and Carol back to the prison. Bad intentions on humans has a certain smell that Shifters can detect.

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Nope? Feel free to let me know.


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